UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Dr.   ERNEST  C.   MOORE 


YOUNG  CHRISTIAN  SERIES. 

IN     FOUR     VOLUMES. 

I.  THE  YOUNG  CHRISTIAN. 
JL  THE  CORNER  STONE. 

III.  THE  WAY  TO  DO  GOOD.     . 

IV.  HOARYHEAD  AND  M'DONNER. 

VERY   GREATLY   IMPROVED   AND  ENLARGED. 

en?ftfe  numerous  SEnjjrabfnga. 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

329     &     331      PEARL     STREET, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1859. 


THE 


WAY   TO   DO   GOOD, 


BY  JACOB  ABBOTT, 


VERY  GREATLY  IMPROVED  AND  ENLARGED, 


numerous 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER    <fc    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

329     &,     331      PEARL     STREET, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1859, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  185-2,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


BY 


PKEF  ACE. 


THE  works  comprised  in  the  Young  Christian  series 
are  the  following : 

I.  THE  YOUNG  CHRISTIAN  ;  or,  a  Familiar  Illustration 
of  the  Principles  of  Christian  Duty. 

II.  THE  CORNER  STONE  ;  or,  a  Familiar  Illustration  of 
the  Principles  of  Christian  Truth. 

III.  THE  WAY  TO  DO  GOOD  ;  or,  the  Christian  Char- 
acter Mature. 

IV.  HOARYHEAD  and  M'DONNER  ;  or  the  Radical  Na- 
ture  of  the  Change  in  Spiritual  Regeneration. 

THE  YOUNG  CHRISTIAN,  the  first  volume  of  the  series, 
is  intended  as  a  guide  to  the  young  inquirer  in  first  en- 
tering upon  his  Christian  course.  Like  the  other  vol- 
umes of  the  series,  the  work  is  intended,  not  for  chil- 
dren, nor  exclusively  for  the  young,  but  for  all  who  are 
first  commencing  a  religious  life,  whatever  their  years 
may  be.  Since,  however,  it  proves,  in  fact,  that  such 
beginners  are  seldom  found  among  those  who  have 
passed  beyond  the  early  periods  of  life,  the  author  has 
kept  in  mind  the  wants  and  the  mental  characteristics 


2151.08 


VI  PREFACE. 

of  youth,  rather  than  those  of  maturity,  in  the  form  in 
which  he  has  presented  the  truths  brought  to  view,  and 
in  the  narratives  and  dialogues  with  which  he  has  at- 
tempted to  illustrate  them. 

In  respect  to  the  theology  of  the  work,  it  takes  every 
where  for  granted  that  salvation  for  the  human  soul  is 
to  be  obtained  through  repentance  for  past  sin,  and 
through  faith  and  trust  in  the  merits  and  atonement  of 
our  Lord  and  Savior  Jesus  Christ.  Its  main  design, 
however,  is  to  enforce  the  practice,  and  not  to  discuss 
the  theory,  of  religion.  Its  object  is  simply  to  explain 
and  illustrate  Christian  duty,  exhibiting  this  duty,  how- 
ever, as  based  on  those  great  fundamental  principles  of 
faith  in  which  all  evangelical  Christians  concur. 

THE  CORNER  STONE,  the  second  volume  of  the  series, 
though  intended  to  explain  and  illustrate  certain  great 
religious  truths,  is  .  not  a  work  of  technical  theology. 
Its  aim  is  simply  to  present,  in  a  plain  and  very  prac- 
tical manner,  a  view  of  some  of  the  great  fundamental 
truths  of  revealed  religion,  on  which  the  superstructure 
of  Christian  character  necessarily  reposes.  The  char- 
acter and  history  of  Jesus  Christ,  considered  as  the  chief 
Corner  Stone  of  the  Christian  faith,  form  the  main  sub- 
jects of  the  volume ;  and  the  principles  of  faith  which 
are  brought  to  view  are  presented  to  the  reader,  as  they 
are  seen  in  the  Scriptures,  centring  in  him. 


PREFACE.  VU 

THE  WAY  TO  DO  CTOOD,  the  third  volume  of  the  series, 
is  designed  to  present  a  practical  view  of  a  life  of  Chris- 
tian usefulness,  and  to  exhibit  in  a  very  plain  and  sim- 
ple manner  the  way  in  which  a  sincere  and  honest  fol- 
lower of  Jesus  is  to  honor  his  sacred  profession  and  ad- 
vance his  Master's  cause,  by  his  daily  efforts  to  promote 
the  welfare  and  happiness  of  those  around  him. 

HOARYHEAD  and  M'DONNER,  the  fourth  and  last  vol- 
ume of  the  series,  consists  of  two  connected  tales,  de- 
signed to  illustrate  the  very  radical  character  of  the 
change  by  which  the  Christian  life  is  begun. 

In  the  treatment  of  the  various  topics  discussed  hi 
these  volumes,  the  author  has  made  it  his  aim  to  divest 
the  subject  of  religion  of  its  scholastic  garb,  and  to  pre- 
sent in  all  plainness  and  simplicity,  and  in  a  manner 
adapted  to  the  intellectual  wants  of  common  readers, 
the  great  fundamental  principles  of  truth  and  duty. .  It 
is  now  many  years  since  the  volumes  of  this  series  were 
first  issued,  and  during  that  time  they  have  been  pub- 
lished, in  whole  or  in  part,  very  extensively  through- 
out the  Christian  world.  Besides  the  wide  circulation 
which  the  series  has  enjoyed  in  this  country,  numerous 
editions,  more  or  less  complete,  have  been  issued  in  En- 
gland, Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Germany,  Holland, 
India,  and  at  various  missionary  stations  throughout 


yiii  PREFACE. 

the  globe.  The  extended  approbation  which  the  Chris- 
tian community  have  thus  bestowed  upon  the  plan,  and 
the  increasing  demand  for  copies  of  the  several  volumes, 
have  led  to  the  republication  of  the  series  at  this  time 
in  a  new  and  much  improved  form.  The  works  have 
all  been  carefully  revised  by  the  author  for  this  edition, 
and  they  are  embellished  with  numerous  illustrative 
engravings,  which  it  is  hoped  may  aid  in  making  them 
attractive  for  every  class  of  readers. 
New  York,  February,  1855. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

WORKS   AND    FAITH,   OR   THE   STORY  OF    ALONZO, 


CHAPTER   II. 

'  ~  *" 

MOTIVES, 64 

CHAPTER  HI. 

OURSELVES,  .  ...  .  .  .          ,V7  85 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   POOR, 120 

CHAPTER  V. 

PROMOTION  OF   PERSONAL   PIETY,   .  .  .  .  ;          .145 

CHAPTER  VI. 

PUBLIC   MORALS 187 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Page 
THE   CHURCH  AND   CHRISTIAN  UNION,      .....      208 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   SICK, 246 

/ 

CHAPTER  IX. 

CHILDREN, 281 

CHAPTER  X. 

INSTRUCTION, .  327 

CHAPTER  XL 

PROPERTY  AS   A  MEANS  OF   DOING   GOOD,        .  .  .      369 

CHAPTER  XII. 

CONCLUSION, 392 


ENGRAVINGS. 


THE   GREEN  MOUNTAINS, 

Page 
13 

ALONZO,    

31 

THE   BRIDE,             .... 

37 

HOME,        
THE   VISIT,    ..... 

55 

.       58 

THE   SEA-SHORE, 

72 

THE    REFORM,          .... 

82 
94 

THE    TRAVELERS, 

109 

INSUBMISSION,     .... 

115 

THE   BEGGAR   GIRL, 

126 

THE    CABIN,         .... 
THE   INTERIOR,       .... 

139 
140 

THE   POST-OFFICE,       . 

157 

JOHN   THE   BAPTIST, 

164 

THE    WILD   FLOWERS, 

185 

ASSUMED   AUTHORITY,   . 

.     192 
205 

.     210 

THE    CATHEDRAL, 

236 

THE   CRIPPLE,           .... 

249 

THE   SICK   CHAMBER,             .           . 

264 

FIRST   STEPS,           .... 

288 

ENGRAVINGS. 


COUNTING, .     '      .  .  293 

THE   BALLOON, 297 

THE   BOAT, 306 

THE   SNOW-BIRDS, .  .  321 

THE   BOTANIST, 331 

ERROR, 357 

A  HOME, 376 

THE   WAGON, 379 

THE   WOOL   MERCHANT, 387 

SUFFERING, 395 

THE   FOUNTAIN, 399 


THE   ¥AY   TO   DO   GOOD 


CHAPTER    I. 

WORKS    AND    FAITH,    OR    THE    STORY    OF     ALONZO. 
"  Created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works." 

Works  and  faith. 

THE  exact  nature  of  the  connection  which  subsists  between 
faith  and  good  works,  in  the  salvation  of  man,  is  a  subject 
which,  in  a  volume  on  THE  WAY  TO  Do  GOOD,  ought  to  be 
well  understood  at  the  outset.  I  can  best  convey  to  my 
young  reader  what  I  wish  to  say  on  this  point  by  relating  to 
him  the  story  of  Alonzo. 


THE   WAY   TO   DO   GOOD. 


Alonzo's  home.  The  farm-yard.  Occupations  of  childhood. 

Alonzo  was  a  Vermont  boy.  His  father  lived  in  one  of 
those  warm  and  verdant  dells  which  give  a  charm  to  the 
scenery  of  the  Green  Mountains.  The  low,  hroad  farmhouse, 
with  its  barns  and  sheds,  hay-stacks  and  high  woodpiles, 
made  almost  a  little  village,  as  they  lay  spread  out  in  a 
sunny  opening  near  the  head  of  the  glen.  A  winding  road 
repeatedly  crossing  a  brook  which  meandered  among  the  trees, 
down  the  valley,  guided  the  traveler  to  the  spot.  The  wide 
yard  was  filled  with  domestic  animals,  the  sheds  were  well 
stored  with  the  utensils  of  the  farm,  lilac  trees  and  rose 
bushes  ornamented  the  front  of  the  dwelling,  and  from  the 
midst  of  a  little  green  lawn  upon  one  side  of  the  house,  was 
a  deep  clear  spring,  walled  in  with  moss-covered  stones,  and 
pouring  up  continually  from  below,  a  full  supply  of  cool,  clear 
water.  A  group  of  willows  hung  over  the  spring,  and  a 
well-trod  footpath  led  to  it  from  the  house. 

A  smooth  fiat  stone  lay  before  the  "  end  door,"  as  they 
called  it,  which  led  to  the  spring.  Here,  during  the  second 
year  of  his  life,  Alonzo  might  have  been  seen  almost  every 
sunny  day,  playing  with  buttercups  and  daisies,  or  digging 
with  the  kitchen  shovel  in  the  earth  before  the  door,  or 
building  houses  of  corn-cobs,  brought  for  his  amusement,  in 
a  basket,  from  the  granary.  The  next  summer,  had  you 
watched  him,  you  would  have  observed  that  his  range  was 
wider,  and  his  plans  of  amusement  a  little  more  enlarged. 
He  had  a  garden,  two  feet  square,  where  he  planted  green 
sprigs,  broken  from  the  shrubs  around  him,  and  he  would 
make  stakes  with  a  dull  house  knife,  partly  for  the  pleasure 
of  making  them,  and  partly  for  the  pleasure  of  driving  them 
into  the  ground.  He  would  ramble  up  and  down  the  path 
a  little  way,  and  sometimes  go  with  his  mother  down  to  the 
spring,  to  see  her  dip  the  bright  tin  pail  into  the  water,  and 
to  gaze  with  astonishment  at  the  effect  of  the  commotion,  — 
for  the  stony  wall  of  the  spring  seemed  always  to  be  broken 


WORKS    AND    FAITH.  15 


The  phenomenon.  A  struggle.  Dialogue  with  conscience. 

to  pieces,  and  its  fragments  to  wave  and  float  about  in  con- 
fusion, until  gradually  they  returned  to  their  places  and  to 
rest,  and  then,  for  aught  he  could  see,  looked  exactly  as  be- 
fore. This  extraordinary  phenomenon  astonished  him  again 
and  again. 

One  day  Alonzo's  mother  saw  him  going  alone,  down  to- 
ward the  spring.  He  had  got  the  pail,  and  was  going  to 
try  the  wonderful  experiment  himself.  His  mother  called 
him  back,  and  forbade  his  ever  going  there  alone.  "  If 
you  go  there  alone,"  said  she,  "  you  will  fall  in  and  be 
drowned." 

Alonzo  was  not  convinced  by  the  reason,  but  he  was 
awed  by  the  command,  and  for  many  days  he  obeyed.  At 
length,  however,  when  his  mother  was  occupied  in  another 
part  of  the  house,  he  stole  away  softly  down  the  path  a  little 
way. 

There  was  a  sort  of  a  struggle  going  on  within  him  while 
he  was  doing  this.  "  Alonzo,"  said  Conscience,  for  even 
at  this  early  age,  conscience  had  begun  to  be  developed, 
"  Alonzo,  this  is  very  wrong." 

Conscience  must  be  conquered,  if  conquered  at  all,  not  by 
direct  opposition,  but  by  evasion  and  deceit,  and  the  deceiv- 
ing and  deceitful  tendencies  of  the  heart  are  very  early  de- 
veloped. 

"  I  am  not  going  down  to  the  spring,"  said  Alonzo  to  him- 
self, "  I  am  only  going  down  the  path,  a  little  way." 

"Alonzo,"  said  Conscience,  again,  "this  is  wrong." 

"  Mother  will  not  see  me,  and  I  shall  not  go  quite  down  to 
the  water,  so  that  no  harm  will  be  done,"  said  the  child  to 
himself  in  reply, — and  went  hesitatingly  on. 

"Alonzo,"  said  Conscience,  a  third  time,  but  with  a 
feebler  voice, — "  you  ought  not  to  go  any  farther." 

"  My  mother  is  too  strict  with  me, — there  can  be  no  harm 
in  my  walking  as  far  as  this." 


16  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Early  gin.  Its  nature.  Self-deception. 

He  lingered  a  little  while  about  half-way  down  the  path, 
and  then  slowly  returned, — the  dialogue  between  Conscience 
and  his  heart  going  on  all  the  time.  The  latter  had  suc- 
ceeded so  well  in  its  artful  policy,  that  when  he  came  back, 
he  really  hardly  knew  whether  he  had  done  wrong  or  not. 
It  did  not  seem  quite  right,  and  a  certain  restless  uneasiness 
at  the  recollection  of  it  remained  on  his  mind  ;  but  his  heart 
had  succeeded  by  its  evasions  and  subterfuges  in  making  so 
much  of  a  question  of  the  whole  transaction,  that  he  could 
not  really  decide  that  it  was  actually  wrong.  Alonzo  had 
been  taught  that  God  had  made  him,  and  that  he  watched 
over  him  at  all  times,  hut  somehow  or  other  he  did  not  hap- 
pen to  think  of  him  at  all  during  this  affair.  He  had  also 
understood  something  of  his  obligations  to  his  mother,  for  her 
kindness  and  love  to  him  ; — hut  he  did  not  happen  to  think 
of  her  now  in  this  light.  The  contest  consisted  simply,  on 
the  one  side,  of  the  low  murmurings  of  conscience,  sternly 
insisting  that  he  was  wrong,  and  on  the  other,  the  turnings 
and  shiftings  and  windings  of  a  deceitful  heart  attempting  to 
quiet  her,  or  at  least  to  drown  her  remonstrances. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  particularly  upon  the  philosophy  of  this 
early  sin,  because  this  was  the  way  in  which  Alonzo  commit- 
ted all  his  sins  for  many  years  afterward.  Conscience  made 
him  uncomfortable  while  he  was  transgressing,  but  then  his 
heart  contrived  such  a  variety  of  evasions  and  queries,  and 
Drought  in  so  many  utterly  foreign  considerations,  that  when- 
ever he  was  doing  any  thing  wrong,  he  never  seemed  to 
have,  at  the  time  while  he  was  doing  it,  a  distinct  idea  that 
it  was  clearly  and  positively  wrong.  For  instance,  a  few 
days  after  the  transaction  above  described,  his  mother  had 
gone  away, — intending  to  be  absent  some  hours, — and  his 
sister  who  had  the  care  of  him,  had  left  him  alone  at  the 
door.  He  took  up  the  pail,  and  began  to  walk  slowly  down 
the  path.  Conscience,  defeated  before,  and  familiarized  to  a 


\VOIIKS   AND    FAITH.  17 


A  second  transgression.  Progress  in  sin. 

certain  degree  of  transgression,  allowed  him  to  go  without 
opposition  a  part  of  the  way,  but  when  she  perceived  that 
he  was  actually  approaching  the  spring,  she  shook  her  head, 
and  renewed  her  low,  solemn  murmuring. 

"  Alonzo,  Alonzo,  you  must  not  go  there." 

"  I  shall  not  fall  in,  I  know,"  said  Alonzo  to  himself. 

"Alonzo! — Alonzo! — Alonzo  !"  said  Conscience  again, — 
"  you  must  not  disobey." 

Alonzo  tried  not  to  hear  her,  and  instead  of  answering,  he 
said  to  himself, 

"  It  was  many  days  ago,  that  she  told  me  not  to  come. 
She  did  not  mean  never." 

This  was  true  literally,  and  yet  it  may  seem  surprising 
that  Alonzo  could  for  one  instant  deceive  himself  with  such 
an  argument.  But  any  pretense  is  sufficient  to  deceive  our- 
selves with  when  we  wish  to  sin.  In  such  cases  we  love  to 
be  deceived. 

While  saying  that  his  mother  could  not  have  meant  that 
he  must  never  come,  Alonzo  leaned  over  the  spring,  and 
tremblingly  plunged  in  his  pail.  The  magic  effect  was 
produced.  The  stones  and  moss  waved  and  quivered,  to 
Alonzo' s  inexpressible  delight.  His  mind  was  in  a  state  of 
feverish  excitement, — Conscience  calling  upon  him,  and  in 
vain  endeavoring  to  make  him  hear, — fear  whispering  eager- 
ly that  he  might  be  seen, — and  curiosity  urging  him  again 
and  again  to  repeat  his  wonderful  experiment. 

Alonzo  was  a  very  little  child,  and  the  language  in  which  I 
am  obliged  to  describe  his  mental  states,  and  the  words  with 
which  I  clothe  his  thoughts,  may  seem  more  mature  than 
the  reality  in  such  a  case  could  have  been.  In  fact  they 
are  so.  He  could  not  have  used  such  language,  and  yet  it 
describes  correctly  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  really 
passed  within  his  bosom. 

At  length,  he  hastily  drew  out  his  pail,  and  went  back  to 


18  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  heart  deceitful  above  all  things.  Progress.  Influence  of  education. 

the  house.  Conscience  endeavored  then,  when  the  excite- 
ment of  the  experiment  was  over,  to  gain  his  attention.  His 
heart,  still  bent  on  deceiving  and  being  deceived,  evaded  the 
subject. 

"  My  mother  said,"  thought  he,  "  that  I  should  fall  in,  and 
be  drowned  if  I  went  there,  and  I  did  not  fall  in  ;  I  knew  I 
should  not  fall  in." 

Thus,  instead  of  thinking  of  his  guilt  and  disobedience,  he 
was  occupied  with  the  thought  of  the  advantage  which  he 
had  gained  over  his  mother, — that  is,  the  heart  which  ought 
to  have  been  penitent  and  humbled,  under  the  burden  of 
sin,  was  deluding  itself  with  the  false  colors  which  it  had 
spread  over  its  guilt,  and  was  filled  with  deceit  and  self- 
congratulation. 

Year  after  year  passed  on,  and  Alonzo  grew  in  strength 
and  stature  ;  but  he  continued  much  the  same  in  heart.  In- 
stead of  playing  on  the  round,  flat  door  stone,  he  at  length 
might  be  seen  riding  on  his  father's  plow, — or  tossing  about 
the  drying  grass  in  the  mowing  field, — or  gathering  berries 
upon  the  hillside,  on  some  summer  afternoon.  He  was  con- 
tinually committing  sins  in  the  manner  already  described. 
These  sins  were  different  in  circumstance  and  character  as 
he  grew  older,  but  their  nature,  so  far  as  the  feelings  of  the 
heart  were  concerned,  were  the  same.  There  was  the  same 
murmuring  of  conscience ;  there  were  the  same  windings 
and  evasions  of  his  heart ;  the  same  self-deception  ;  the  same 
success  in  leading  himself  to  doubt  whether  the  act  of  aggres- 
sion, which  for  the  time  being  he  was  committing,  was  right 
or  wrong.  His  parents,  in  most  respects,  brought  him  up 
well.  They  taught  him  his  duty,  and  when  they  knew  that 
he  did  wrong,  they  remonstrated  with  him  seriously,  or,  if 
necessary,  they  punished  him.  Thus  his  conscience  was 
cherished,  and  kept  alive,  as  it  were,  and  he  was  often 
deterred  by  her  voice  from  committing  many  sins.  She  held 


WORKS   AND   FAITH.  19 


Alonzo's  virtues.  His  piety. 

him  much  in  check.  His  parents  formed  in  him  many  good 
habits  which  he  adhered  to  faithfully  as  habits, — and  thus  so 
far  as  the  influence  of  his  parents  could  go,  in  aiding  con- 
science, and  in  habituating  him  to  certain  duties, — so  far  he 
wan  in  most  cases,  deterred  from  the  commission  of  sin.  In 
other  things,  however,  that  is  those  to  which  these  influences 
did  not  reach,  he  sinned  without  scruple.  For  example,  he 
would  have  shuddered  at  stealing,  even  a  pin,  from  his  sister; 
but  he  would  by  unreasonable  wishes  and  demands,  give  her 
as  much  trouble,  and  occasion  her  as  much  loss  of  enjoyment, 
as  if  he  had  stolen  a  very  valuable  article  from  her.  If  he 
had  undertaken  to  steal  a  little  picture  from  her  desk,  con- 
science would  have  thundered  so  terribly,  that  he  could  not 
possibly  have  proceeded  ;  but  he  could  tease  and  vex  her  by 
his  unreasonable  and  selfish  conduct,  without  any  remorse. 
If  his  heart  had  been  honest  and  shrewd  in  discovering  its 
own  real  character,  these  cases  would  have  taught  him  that 
his  honesty  was  artificial  and  accidental,  and  did  not  rest  on 
any  true  foundation, — but  his  heart  was  not  honest,  nor 
shrewd  in  respect  to  itself ;  it  loved  to  be  deceived,  and  when 
he  read  of  a  theft  in  a  story-book,  he  took  great  pleasure  in 
thinking  what  a  good,  honest  boy  he  himself  was. 

So  he  would  not,  on  any  account,  have  omitted  to  say  his 
prayers,  morning  and  night ;  but  whenever  he  committed 
sin  in  the  course  of  the  day,  he  never  thought  of  going  away 
alone  before  God  to  confess  it,  and  to  ask  forgiveness.  Now 
if  his  heart  had  been  honest  and  shrewd  in  discovering  his 
own  character,  this  would  have  taught  him  that  his  piety 
was  all  a  mere  form,  and  that  he  had  no  real  affection  for 
God.  But  his  heart  was  not  thus  honest  and  shrewd,  and 
though  he  never  thought  much  about  it,  he  still  had  an  im- 
pression on  his  mind  that  he  was  the  friend  of  God,  and  that 
he  regularly  worshiped  him.  He  knew  very  well  that  he 
sometimes  committed  sin,  but  he  imagined  that  it  was  very 


20  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  way  to  manage  conscience.  Alonzo's  discovery. 

seldom  that  he  did  so.  For  as  we  have  already  explained, 
it  was  very  seldom,  when  he  was  actually  engaged  in  trans- 
gression, that  he  had  a  distinct  and  clear  conception  that 
what  he  was  then  doing  was  positively  wrong.  He  always 
so  far  succeeded  in  blinding  or  misleading  conscience  as  to 
make  it  doubtful.  And  if  he  could  succeed  in  making  a 
question  of  it,  he  would  go  and  commit  the  sin,  with  a  half- 
formed  idea  of  examining  the  case  afterward.  But  then  wheu 
the  pleasure  of  the  sin  was  over,  he  found  that  the  moral 
character  of  the  transaction  was,  somehow  or  other,  rather  a 
disagreeable  subject  to  investigate  ;  so  he  left  it,  laid  away, 
as  it  were,  in  his  memory,  to  fester  and  rankle  there.  And 
though  he  had  such  a  number  of  these  recollections  as  to 
give  him  no  little  uneasiness  and  annoyance,  he  still  thought 
he  was  a  very  virtuous  and  promising  young  man. 

One  day,  Alonzo  made  a  discovery  which  startled  and 
alarmed  him  a  little.  He  was  about  twelve  years  old. 
Some  young  men  had  formed  a  plan  of  ascending  a  certain 
mountain  summit,  the  extremity  of  a  lofty  ridge,  which  pro- 
jected like  a  spur  from  the  main  range,  and  which  reared 
its  rocky  head  among  the  clouds,  in  full  view  from  his  fa- 
ther's door.  They  had  fixed  upon  Sabbath  evening  for  this 
purpose,  an  hour  or  two  before  sunset.  "  A  great  many  peo- 
ple, you  know,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  "  think  that  the  Sabbath 
ends  at  sunset,  and  an  hour  or  so  before  will  not  make  any 
great  difference.  We  must  be  up  in  season  to  see  the  sun  go 
down."  This  disposal  of  the  difficulty  was  abundantly  satis- 
factory to  all  those  who  were  inclined  to  go,  but  Alonzo  had 
some  doubts  whether  it  would  appear  equally  conclusive  to 
his  father  and  mother.  One  thing  favored,  however.  His 
father  was  away,  having  been  absent  on  some  business  for 
the  town,  for  several  days  ;  and  Alonzo  thought  that  there 
was  at  least  a  possibility  that  his  mother  would  find  the  de- 
ficiencies in  the  reasoning  made  up  by  a  little  extra  per- 


WORKS    AND    Jr'AlTH.  21 


Asking  mother.  Maternal  firmness.  Effects. 

suasion,  and  that  her  consent  to  his  sharing  in  the  pleasure 
of  the  excursion  would  be  obtained.  At  any  rate,  it  was 
plainly  worth  while  to  try. 

He  accordingly  came  in  on  Saturday  afternoon,  and  stand- 
ing by  the  side  of  his  mother,  who  was  finishing  some  sewing 
necessary  to  complete  her  preparations  for  the  Sabbath,  with 
much  hesitancy  and  circumlocution  he  preferred  his  request. 
She  listened  to  him  with  surprise,  and  then  told  him  he  must 
not  go. 

"  It  would  be  very  wrong,"  said  she. 

"  But,  mother,  we  shall  walk  along  very  still ;  we  will 
not  laugh  or  play.  It  will  only  be  taking  a  little  walk  after 
sunset." 

Alonzo's  mother  was  silent. 

"  Come,  mother,"  said  the  boy,  hoping  that  he  had  made 
some  impression,  "do  let  me  go.  Do  say  yes, — just  this 
once." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  she  replied, 

"  Some  persons  do  indeed  suppose  that  the  Sabbath  ends 
at  sunset,  but  we  think  it  continues  till  midnight,  and  we 
pan  not  shift  and  change  the  hours  to  suit  our  pleasures. 
Now,  with  all  your  resolutions  about  walking  still,  you  know 
very  well  that  such  an  expedition,  with  such  companions, 
will  not  be  keeping  holy  the  Sabbath  day.  You  come  to  me, 
therefore,  with  a  proposal  that  I  will  allow  you  to  disobey, 
directly  and  openly,  one  of  the  plainest  of  God's  commands. 
It  is  impossible  that  I  should  consent." 

While  his  mother  was  saying  these  words,  emotions  of 
anger  and  indignation  began  to  rise  and  swell  in  Alonzo's 
bosom,  until,  at  length,  foreseeing  how  the  sentence  would 
end,  he  began  to  walk  ofF  toward  the  door,  and  almost 
before  the  last  words  were  uttered,  he  was  gone.  He  shut 
the  door  violently,  muttering  to  himself,  "  It  is  always  just  so." 

In  a  state  of  wretchedness  and  sin,  which  my  readers,  if 


22  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  seat  in  the  orchard.  Conflicting  emotions. 

they  have  ever  acted  as  Alonzo  did,  can  easily  conceive  of, 
he  walked  out  of  the  house,  and  sank  down  upon  a  bench 
which  he  had  made  in  the  little  orchard.  Here  he  gave 
full  flow  for  a  few  minutes  to  the  torrent  of  boiling  passion 
which  had  so  suddenly  burst  out  of  his  heart.  In  a  short 
tkne,  however,  the  excitement  of  his  feelings  subsided  a 
little,  and  there  came  suddenly  a  sort  of  flash  of  moral  light, 
which  seemed  to  reveal  to  him  for  an  instant  the  true  charac- 
ter of  the  transaction. 

Something  within  him  seemed  to  say,  "  What  an  unrea- 
sonable, ungrateful,  wicked  boy  you  are,  Alonzo.  Here  is 
your  mother — as  kind  a  mother  as  ever  lived.  You  owe 
her  your  very  being.  She  has  taken  care  of  you  for  years, 
without  any  return,  and  has  done  every  thing  to  make  you 
happy ;  and  now  because  she  can  not  consent  to  let  you  do 
what  is  most  clearly  wrong,  your  heart  is  full  of  anger, 
malice  and  revenge.  What  a  heart !  Love,  duty, — all  are 
forgotten,  and  every  feeling  of  gratitude  for  long  years  of 
kindness  is  obliterated,  by  one  single  interference  with  your 
wicked  desires." 

This  reflection,  which  it  will  require  some  time  to  read, 
occupied  but  an  instant  in  passing  through  Alonzo's  mind. 
It  flashed  upon  him  for  a  moment,  and  was  gone, — and  the 
dark,  heavy  clouds  of  anger  and  ill-will,  rolled  again  over  his 
soul.  He  sat  upon  the  bench  in  moody  silence. 

At  length,  he  began  again  to  see  that  he  was  very  wrong  ; 
such  feelings  toward  his  mother  were,  he  knew,  unreason- 
able and  sinful,  and  he  determined  that  he  would  not  indulge 
them.  So  he  arose,  and  walked  through  a  small  gate,  into 
the  yard,  where  a  large  pile  of  long  logs  were  lying,  one  of 
which  had  been  rolled  down  and  partly  cut  off,  in  the  process 
of  preparing  fuel  from  it  for  the  fire.  Alonzo  took  up  the  axe 
and  went  to  work.  But  he  soon  learned  that  it  was  one  thing 
to  see  that  his  feelings  were  wrong,  and  another  thing  to  feel 


WORKS    AND    FAITH.  23 


Healing  the  hurt  slightly.  Alonzo's  opinion  of  himself. 

right.  His  mind  was  in  a  sort  of  chaos.  Floating  visions  of 
the  party  ascending  the  hill, — vexation  at  his  disappoint- 
ment,— uneasiness  at  the  recollection  of  his  unkind  treatment 
of  his  mother,  all  mingled  together  in  his  soul.  "  I  wish  I 
could  feel  right  toward  mother  about  this,"  said  he  to  him- 
self; but  somehow  or  other,  there  seemed  gathering  over  his 
heart  a  kind  of  casing  of  dogged  sullenness,  which  he  could 
not  break  or  dispel.  At  least  he  thought  he  could  not ;  so 
he  concluded  that  it  would  be  best  for  the  present  to  forget 
the  whole  affair.  He  laid  down  the  axe,  therefore,  and  be- 
gan to  pick  up  some  chips  and  sticks  to  carry  in  for  kindling 
the  morning  fire  ;  and  he  secretly  determined  that  when  he 
went  in  and  met  his  mother  again,  he  would  not  evince  any 
more  of  his  impatience  and  anger,  but  would  act  "just  as  if 
nothing  had  happened." 

Just  as  if  nothing  had  happened !  What,  after  evincing 
toward  his  mother  so  much  disrespect,  ingratitude,  and  dis- 
obedience, act  as  if  nothing  had  happened  !  The  proper 
thought  to  have  arisen  to  his  mind  would  have  been,  "  I  will 
go  to  my  mother,  and  confess  my  fault,  and  humbly  beg  her 
forgiveness  for  my  undutiful  and  ungrateful  behavior.' 

But  Alonzo  did  not  make  any  such  reflection.  His  heart, 
clinging  to  his  sin,  loved  to  be  deceived  by  it.  It  seemed 
to  him  impossible  to  feel  the  relenting  of  true,  heartfelt 
penitence,  and  that  love  and  gratitude  which  he  knew  his 
mother  deserved, — and  especially  that  cheerful  acquiescence 
in  her  decision,  which  he  knew  he  ought  to  feel.  So  he  con- 
cluded to  forget  all  about  it, — and  the  poisoned  fountain 
which  had  so  suddenly  burst  forth  in  his  heart,  was  covered 
up  again,  and  smoothed  over,  ready  to  boil  out  anew,  upon 
any  new  occasion. 

This  and  a  few  other  similar  occurrences,  led  Alonzo 
sometimes  to  think  that  there  might  be  deeper  sources  of 
moral  difficulty  in  his  heart,  than  he  had  been  accustomed 


21  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

An  incident.  The  walk  through  the  woods. 

to  imagine  ;  but  he  did  not  think  much  about  it,  and  his 
life  passed  on  vfrithout  much  thought  or  care  in  respect  to  his 
character  or  prospects  as  a  moral  being.  He  had,  however, 
a  sort  of  standing  suspicion  that  there  was  something  wrong, 
— quite  wrong,  but  he  did  not  stop  to  examine  the  case. 
The  little  uneasiness  which  this  suspicion  caused,  was 
soothed  and  quieted  in  some  measure,  by  a  sort  of  prevail- 
ing idea,  that  after  all,  there  was  a  great  deal  that  was 
very  excellent  in  his  conduct  and  character.  He  was  gene- 
rally considered  a  pretty  good  boy.  He  knew  this,  very 
well ;  and  one  of  the  grossest  of  the  forms  of  deceitfulness 
which  the  heart  assumes,  is,  to  believe  that  we  deserve  all 
that  others  give  us  credit  for,  even  where  the  good  qualities 
in  question  are  merely  the  most  superficial  and  shallow  pre- 
tense. 

One  incident  occurred  about  this  time,  which  almost 
opened  Alonzo's  eyes  to  the  true  character  of  some  of  his 
virtues.  During  the  winter  months  he  went  to  school,  and 
the  good  qualities  which  he  fancied  that  he  exhibited  there, 
were  among  those  on  which  he  most  prided  himself.  One 
afternoon,  as  he  was  walking  home,  with  a  green  satchel  full 
of  books  slung  over  his  shoulder,  he  stopped  a  few  minutes 
at  the  brook  which  crossed  the  road,  and  looked  down  over 
the  bridge  upon  the  smooth  dark-colored  ice  which  covered 
the  deep  water.  It  looked  so  clear  and  beautiful,  that  he 
went  down  and  cautiously  stepped  upon  it.  It  was  so  trans- 
parent that  it  seemed  impossible  that  it  could  be  strong.  He 
sat  down  on  a  stone  which  projected  out  of  the  water,  and 
while  he  was  there  the  teacher  came  along,  and  stopping  on 
the  bridge,  began  to  talk  with  him.  Alonzo  and  the  teacher 
were  on  very  good  terms,  and  after  talking  together  a  few 
minutes  at  the  brook,  they  both  walked  along  together. 

Their  way  was  a  cross-path  through  the  woods,  which  led 


WORKS    AND   FAITH.  25 


Conversation.  The  books  in  the  satchel. 

by  a  shorter  course  than  the  main  road,  to  the  part  of  the 
town  where  they  were  both  going. 

"  Alonzo,"  said  the  teacher,  as  they  were  stepping  over  a 
low  place  in  the  log  fence  where  their  path  diverged  from 
the  road  ; — "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  carrying  your  hooks 
home." 

"  I  like  to  study  my  lessons  at  home  in  the  evenings," 
said  Alonzo,  with  a  feeling  of  secret  satisfaction. 

"  Well,  Alonzo,  what  should  you  say  if  I  should  tell  you 
that  I  could  guess  exactly  what  books  you  have  got  in  your 
satchel  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Alonzo, — "  perhaps  you  saw  me  put 
them  in." 

"  No,  I  did  not." 

"  Well,  you  can  tell  by  the  shape  of  the  books  ;  you  can 
see  the  shape  and  size  of  them  by  looking  at  the  satchel." 

"  No,"  said  the  teacher,  "  I  can  see  that  you  have  got 
either  your  writing-book  or  your  Atlas,  but  I  can  not  tell 
which  by  the  appearance  of  the  satchel.  I  see  also,  that 
there  is  by  the  side  of  it,  one  middle-sized  book  besides ;  but 
its  size  does  not  determine  whether  it  is  your  Arithmetic  or 
your  Grammar  or  your  Geography." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  the  books  are  ?" 

"  I  think  they  are  your  writing-book,  and  your  spelling- 
book." 

There  was  in  Alonzo's  countenance  an  appearance  of  sur- 
prise and  curiosity.  He  said  that  the  teacher  was  right,  and 
asked  him  how  he  knew. 

"  I  know  by  your  character." 

"  By  my  character !"  said  Alonzo.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  that?" 

"  I  will  tell  you ;  but  I  think  it  will  give  you  pain  rather 
than  pleasure.  You  are  one  of  the  best  boys  in  my  school, 
— you  give  me  very  little  trouble,  and  are  generally  diligent 
B 


26  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Motives.  An  exposure.  The  teacher's  queries. 

in.  your  duties ;  and  obedient  and  faithful.  Now,  have  you 
ever  thought  what  your  motives  are  for  this  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  have  never  thought  about  it  very  particu- 
larly," replied  Alonzo.  "I  wish  to  improve  my  time,  and 
learn  as  much  as  I  can,  so  as  to  be  useful  when  I  am  a 
man." 

Alonzo  thought  that  that  ought  to  be  his  motive,  and  so 
he  fancied  that  it  was.  He  did  not  mean  to  tell  a  false- 
hood. He  did  not  say  it  because  he  wished  to  deceive  his 
teacher,  but  because  his  heart  had  deceived  him.  It  is  so 
with  us  all. 

"  You  think  so,  I  have  no  doubt.  But  now  I  wish  to  ask 
you  one  question.  What  two  studies  do  you  think  you  are 
most  perfect  in  ?" 

Alonzo  did  not  like  to  answer,  though  he  knew  that  he 
prided  himself  much  on  his  handsome  writing,  and  on  his 
being  almost  always  at  the  head  of  his  class  in  spelling.  At 
length  he  said,  with  a  modest  air,  that  he  thought  he  "  took 
as  much  interest  in  his  writing  and  in  his  spelling  lessons  as 
in  any  thing." 

"  Are  there  any  studies  that  you  are  less  advanced  in  than 
in  these  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,"  said  the  teacher,  "  and  now  I  have  one  other 
question.  How  happens  it  that  the  writing-book  and  the 
spelling-book,  which  represent  the  two  studies  in  which  you 
have  made  the  greatest  proficiency,  and  in  which  you,  of 
course,  least  need  any  extra  efforts,  are  the  very  ones  which 
you  are  bringing  home  to  work  upon  in  the  evenings  ?" 

Alonzo  did  not  answer  immediately.  In  fact,  he  had  no 
answer  at  hand.  He  thought,  however,  that  if  he  was  in- 
clined to  study  out  of  school  hours,  he  had  a  right  to  take  any 
books  home  that  he  pleased.  But  he  did  not  say  so. 

"  And  I  should  like  to  ask  you  one  more  question,"  said 


WORKS   AND   FAITH.  27 


Alonzo's  perplexity.  His  reflections. 

the  teacher.  "  In  what  study  do  you  think  you  are  most  de- 
ficient ?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  my  Arithmetic,"  said  Alonzo  :  recollect- 
ing how  he  disliked,  and  avoided  as  much  as  possible,  every 
thing  connected  with  calculation. 

"  And  do  you  ever  carry  home  your  Arithmetic  to  study 
in  the  evening  ?" 

Alonzo  shook  his  head.     He  knew  that  he  did  not. 

"  Well.  Now  you  are  well  aware  that  there  is  no  knowl- 
edge obtained  at  school  more  important  to  a  man  than  a 
knowledge  of  figures.  How  does  it  happen,  then,  if  your 
motive  is  to  fit  yourself  for  usefulness  and  happiness  when 
a  man,  that  the  very  study  in  which  you  are  most  deficient, 
is  the  very  one  in  which  you  never  make  any  voluntary 
effort  ?" 

Here  was  a  little  pause,  during  which  Alonzo  looked  seri- 
ous. He  felt  very  unhappy.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
teacher  was  unkind.  When  he  was  bringing  his  books  home 
to  study  his  lesson  for  the  next  day  on  purpose  to  please  the 
teacher, — to  be  blamed  just  because  he  had  not  happened  to 
bring  his  arithmetic  instead  of  his  spelling-book,  was  very 
hard.  Tears  came  to  his  eyes,  but  he  strove  to  suppress 
them,  and  said  nothing. 

"I  know,  Alonzo,"  continued  the  teacher,  "that  these 
questions  of  mine  will  trouble  you.  But  I  have  not  asked 
them  for  the  sake  of  troubling  you,  but  for  the  purpose  of 
letting  you  see  into  your  heart  and  learn  a  lesson  of  its  de- 
ceitfulness.  I  want  you  to  think  of  this  to-night  when  you 
are  alone,  and  perhaps  I  will  some  day  talk  with  you  again." 

So  saying,  they  came  out  into  the  road  again,  near  the 
teacher's  residence.  They  bade  one  another  good-bye,  and 
Alonzo  walked  on  alone. 

"He  means,"  thought  he,  "that  if  I  honestly  desired  to 
improve,  I  should  take  most  interest  in  the  studies  in  which 


28  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Alonzo's  virtues  not  genuine.  Summary  of  Alonzo's  character. 

I  am  deficient."  And  as  this  thought  floated  through  his 
mind,  it  brought  after  it  a  dim  momentary  vision  of  the  pride 
and  vanity  and  love  of  praise  which  he  suddenly  saw  revealed 
as  the  secret  spring  of  all  those  excellences  at  school,  on 
which  he  had  so  prided  himself.  But  to  see  all  those  fancied 
virtues  of  industry,  and  love  of  learning,  and  desire  to  be  con 
scientious  and  faithful,  wither  at  once,  under  the  magic  in- 
fluence of  two  such  simple  questions,  and  turn  into  vanity 
and  self-conceit,  afforded  him  no  pleasant  subject  of  reflec- 
tion. He  was  glad,  therefore,  to  see  a  load  of  wood  coming 
into  his  father's  yard  as  he  approached  it,  and  he  hastened 
to  "  help  them  unload."  He  thus  got  rid  of  the  disagreeable 
subject,  without  actually  deciding  whether  the  teacher  was 
right  or  wrong. 

The  affair,  however,  shook  and  weakened  very  much  his 
faith  in  the  good  traits  of  his  character.  He  did  not  come  to 
the  distinct  conclusion  that  they  were  all  hollow  and  super- 
ficial, but  he  had  a  sort  of  vague  fear  that  they  might  prove 
so, — an  undefined  notion  that  they  would  not  bear  examina- 
tion. This  was  another  source  of  uneasiness  laid  up  in  his 
heart, — a  part  of  the  burden  of  sin  which  he  bore  without 
thinking  much  of  it,  though  it  fretted  and  troubled  him. 

Thus  Alonzo  lived.  From  twelve  he  passed  on  to  fifteen, 
and  from  fifteen  to  twenty.  He  became  a  strong,  athletic 
young  man,  known  and  esteemed  for  his  industry,  frugality, 
and  steadiness  of  character.  The  time  drew  near  which  was 
to  terminate  his  minority,  and  at  this  age,  his  moral  condition 
might  be  summed  up  thus  : 

1 .  The  external  excellences  of  his  character  arose  from  the 
influence  of  his  excellent  education.  This  would  have  been 
no  disparagement  to  them,  if  they  had  been  of  the  right  kind  ; 
— but  they  were  not  of  the  right  kind.  They  consisted  al- 
most entirely  of  acts  of  outward  propriety,  resulting  from  the 
restraints  imposed  by  the  opinion  of  those  around  him, — from 


WORKS    AND    FAITH. 


His  occupations  and  pleasures. 


the  influence  of  conscience,  which,  in  respect  to  some  sins, 
had  heen  so  encouraged  and  cultivated  by  his  parents,  that  it 
was  very  uncomfortable  for  him  to  act  directly  counter  to  her 
voice,  in  respect  to  those  sins, — and  from  the  power  of  habit. 
His  industry,  for  instance,  was  based  upon  the  last ;  his  re- 
gard for  the  Sabbath  upon  the  second,  and  his  temperance 
and  steadiness  mainly  upon  the  other. 

2.  He  made  no  regular,  systematic  eflbrt  to  improve  his 
character.     In  fact,  he  felt  little  interest  in  any  plan  of  this 
kind.     He  was  much  interested  in  the  various  plans  of  cul- 
tivation and  improvement  on  his  father's  farm ;  but  his  heart 
was  chiefly  set  upon  the  amusements  with  which  the  young 
people  of  the  neighborhood  regaled  themselves,  in  hours  when 
work  was  done  ; — the  sleigh-ride, — the  singing-school, — the 
fishing  party, — the  husking.     In  the  evening,  usually,  he  was 
occupied  with  some  one  of  these  enjoyments,  and  the  next  day, 
at  his  work,  he  was  planning  another  ;  and  thus  life  glided 
on.     I  do  not  mean  that  he  was  entirely  indifferent   about 
his  character  and  prospects  as  a  moral  being ;  he  did  some- 
times feel  a  little  uneasiness  about  them.     Such  discoveries 
as  I  have  already  described  gave  him  a  momentary  glimpse 
occasionally  of  the  secrets  of  his  heart,  and  he  had  a  sort  of 
abiding  impression  that  there  was  something  there  which 
would  not  bear  examination.     It  was  however  an  unpleasant 
subject,  and  he  thought  that  for  the  present  he  would  let  it 
rest.     As  to  his  character,  it  was,  he  knew,  superficially  fair. 
He  prided  himself  not  a  little  upon  the  appearance  which  it 
presented  toward  others,  and  he  did  not  see  how  he  could 
improve  it  much,  without  making  thorough  changes  in  the 
motives  and  feelings  of  his  heart.     This  he  could  not  but 
strongly  shrink  from  ;  so  he  passed  quietly  along  and  thought 
about  other  things. 

3.  There  was  no  connection  between  his  soul  and  God.     I 
mean   no  spiritual  connection, — no  communion, — no  inter- 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Character  of  his  prayers.  The  evening  meeting.  Setting  off. 

change  of  thought  or  of  feeling.  He  was  taught  to  repeat  a 
prayer  morning  and  evening,  and  this  practice  he  continued, 
— that  is,  he  considered  it  one  of  his  duties  and  meant,  gen- 
erally, to  perform  it.  As  he  grew  up  from  boyhood  however 
he  often  neglected  it  in  the  morning,  until  at  length  he  omit- 
ted it  then  altogether  ;  and  he  gradually  found  an  increasing 
reluctance  to  perform  it  at  night.  He  often  omitted  it, — not 
intentionally,  exactly  ; — he  forgot  it ;  or  he  was  very  tired 
and  went  immediately  to  sleep.  These  omissions,  however, 
which,  by  the  way,  were  far  more  frequent  than  he  imagined, 
did  not  trouble  him  as  much  as  it  might  have  been  expected 
that  they  would,  for  he  began  to  think  that  the  practice  was 
intended  for  children,  and  that  he  was  getting  to  be  too  old 
to  make  it  necessary  that  he  should  attend  to  it.  When  he 
did  attend  to  the  duty,  it  was  only  a  form.  There  was  no 
communion  or  connection  between  him  and  God.  So  far  as 
the  feelings  of  his  heart  were  concerned,  he  lived  in  inde- 
pendence of  his  Maker. 

Such  was  Alonzo's  condition,  during  the  winter  before 
he  was  to  be  twenty-one.  One  evening  during  that  winter, 
"  a  meeting"  was  appointed  in  the  school-house.  A  stranger 
was  to  preach.  On  such  occasions  the  school-house  was 
always  filled.  The  congregation  came  from  the  farmers' 
families  for  several  miles  around  ;  curiosity  respecting  the 
stranger,  the  pleasure  of  a  winter  evening's  expedition,  a  sort 
of  intellectual  interest  in  the  services,  the  exhilarating  and 
animating  scene  which  the  room  presented, — the  light  from 
the  great  blazing  wood  fire  beaming  upon  a  hundred  bright 
and  cheerful  countenances, — and  in  some  cases  at  least,  an 
honest  desire  to  know  and  do  duty,  constituted  the  motives 
which  drew  the  assembly  together.  At  six  o'clock  Alonzo 
harnessed  a  strong,  fleet,  well-fed  horse  into  a  gayly  painted 
sleigh,  and  handing  his  father  and  mother  into  the  back  seat, 
mounted,  himself,  upon  a  higher  one  in  front,  and  away 


WORKS   AND    FAITH. 


31 


Nino  o'clock. 


The  Holy  Spirit. 


they  went  jingling  down  the  valley.  .  They  were  lost  to  sight 
by  the  turnings  of  the  road  among  the  trees,  and  the  sleigh- 
bells,  sounding  fainter  and  fainter,  at  length  died  away  upon 
the  ear. 

A  little  before  nine, 
Alonzo  might  have 
been  seen  returning 
slowly  up  the  valley 
The  moon  had  risen, 
and  it  shone  through 
the  trees,  casting  a 
beautiful  white  light 
upon  the  snowy  wreaths 
which  hung  upon  them. 
The  horse  walked  along 
slowly,  and  Alonzo  was 
making  crosses  with  his 
whip-lash  upon  the 
smooth  surface  of  the 
snow  which  bordered  ALONZO. 

the  road.     He  was  lost 

in  thought.  The  subject  of  the  sermon  which  he  had  heard, 
was,  the  importance  of  preparation  for  another  world ;  and 
it  happened,  from  some  cause  or  other,  that  Alonzo's  mind 
was  in  such  a  calm,  contemplative  state  that  evening,  that 
the  discourse  made  a  strong  impression.  It  was  not  an 
impression  made  by  any  extraordinary  eloquence.  The 
preacher,  in  a  very  quiet,  unostentatious,  simple  manner, 
presented  truths  which  Alonzo  had  heard  a  thousand  times 
before,  though  heretofore  they  had,  as  it  were,  stopped  at  the 
ear.  This  night  they  seemed  to  penetrate  to  his  heart. 
He  came  out  of  the  meeting  thoughtful.  He  rode  home 
silently.  There  seemed  to  be  a  new  view  opened  before 
his  mind.  The  future  world  appeared  a  reality  to  -him ;  it 


32  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Morning  cloud  and  early  dew.  Wandering  thoughts. 

looked  near ;  and  he  wondered  why  he  was  not  making  a 
preparation  for  it.  He  rode  home  thinking  of  these  things 
silently.  His  father  and  mother  rode  in  silence  too,  each 
unconscious  of  the  thoughts  of  the  other,  hut  hoth  thinking 
of  their  son.  An  unwonted  influence  was  moving  upon  the 
hearts  of  all. 

These  serious  thoughts  passed  away  the  next  day,  but 
they  left  behind  them  a  more  distinct  impression  than  Alonzo 
had  been  accustomed  to  feel,  that  he  had  a  great  work  to  do 
before  he  left  the  world,  and  that  it  was  a  work  which  he 
had  not  yet  begun. 

He  was  careful  to  repeat  the  prayer  of  his  childhood  that 
night.  He  did  it  too  with  great  seriousness, — making  an 
effort  to  keep  the  meaning  in  his  mind,  while  he  was  repeat- 
ing the  words.  It  is  true  that  there  is  a  great,  and  one 
would  suppose,  a  sufficiently  obvious  distinction  between 
having  the  meaning  of  a  prayer  in  the  mind,  and  having 
the  feelings  and  desires  which  it  expresses  in  the  heart. 
But  Alonzo  did  not  perceive  this  distinction.  He  thought 
very  distinctly  of  the  meaning  of  the  several  successive  peti- 
tions and  confessions,  and  that  was  all ;  but  it  was  enough 
to  satisfy  a  deceiving  and  deceitful  heart,  and  Alonzo  dis- 
missed his  cares  on  the  subject  of  his  preparation  for  death, 
as  he  went  to  sleep,  feeling  that  he  had  made  a  good  be 
ginning. 

Alonzo's  attention  was  occupied  early  the  next  morning, 
by  an  excursion  into  the  forest  for  a  load  of  wood  with  his 
father,  and  he  entirely  forgot  his  new  religious  resolutions, 
until  the  evening.  This  discouraged  him  a  little.  He, 
however,  again  offered  his  prayer,  with  an  effort  to  keep  its 
meaning  in  his  mind,  though  that  effort  was  less  successful 
than  on  the  evening  before.  His  thoughts  would  slip  away, 
as  it  were,  from  his  control,  and  while  he  was  saying,  "  My 
sins  have  been  numerous  and  aggravated,"  or  "  lead  me  not 


WORKS   AND   FAITH.  33 


Concealment.  Slow  progress. 

into  temptation,"  he  would  find  that  his  mind  was  dwelling 
upon  the  past  scenes  of  the  day  ;  it  would  be  off  in  the  forest 
where  he  had  been -at  work,  or  surveying  the  smooth  slopes 
of  hay  in  the  barn  loft,  or  dwelling  with  pleasure  upon  the 
fat  sleek  sides  of  Cherry,  feeding  in  the  stall. 

Alonzo  was  so  dissatisfied  with  his  prayer,  that  he  began 
again  before  he  got  through,  though  with  not  much  better 
success  than  before.  He  was  vexed  with  himself  that  he 
could  not  confine  his  attention  more  easily.  He  could  not 
understand  the  reason  of  it.  The  obvious  explanation, — a 
heart  alienated  from  God,  and  eluding  by  its  own  sponta- 
neous tendencies,  every  effort  to  bring  it  to  him, — he  did  not 
see.  Willingly  deceived,  he  was  spiritually  blind. 

However,  he  succeeded  so  well,  that  he  thought  his  second 
prayer  would  do,  and  gradually  fell  asleep. 

Weeks  passed  on,  and  Alonzo  made,  in  the  manner  atove 
described,  feeble  and  intermitted  efforts  to  be  a  religious  man. 
He  said  nothing  of  his  feelings  to  any  one.  In  fact,  he  would 
not,  for  the  world,  have  had  any  body  know  that  he  had  any 
intention  of  serving  God.  Whether  it  was  because  he  was 
ashamed  to  be  seen  in  the  service  of  such  a  Master,  or  be- 
cause he  thought  that  his  new  feelings  were  of  so  high  a 
degree  of  moral  excellence,  that  modesty  required  that  he 
should  conceal  them,  we  do  not  say.  He  was,  at  any  rate, 
very  careful  to  conceal  them. 

He  made,  however,  little  progress.  Weeks  and  months 
passed  away,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  remained  sub- 
stantially in  the  same  place.  The  truth  was,  there  was  a 
current  carrying  him  down,  which  he  did  not  perceive,  but 
whose  effects  at  distant  intervals  were  very  evident.  He 
moved  like  the  little  water  skipper,  which  he  had  often 
watched,  on  his  father's  brook, — making  now  and  then  a 
convulsive  and  momentary  effort  to  ascend,  but  borne  con- 
tiually  backward  by  a  current  steady  and  unceasing  in  its 


34  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Alonzo  like  the  water  skipper.  Difficulties. 

flow, — so  that  notwithstanding  its  leaps,  it  drifts  insensibly 
down  toward  the  gulf  behind  it. 

Alonzo  was  like  the  skipper,  too,  in  other  respects.  He 
saw  distinctly  his  own  repeated  efforts ;  but  the  slow,  gentle, 
but  continual  operation  of  the  current,  was  unperceived. 
His  face  was  turned  up  the  stream,  too,  where  all  was 
smooth  and  sunny  and  beautiful.  He  did  not  see  the  dark 
gulf  that  yawned  behind. 

In  a  word,  Alonzo  made  but  little  progress.  The  work 
was  all  up  hill.  He  perceived  that  on  the  whole  he  was 
not  advancing,  and  yet  he  could  scarcely  tell  why.  There 
were  several  difficulties,  the  operation  of  which  he  felt,  but 
there  was  something  mysterious  and  unaccountable  about 
them. 

First,  he  was  continually  forgetting  all  his  good  intentions. 
He  would,  for  example,  reflect  sometimes  on  the  Sabbath, 
upon  his  duties  and  obligations,  and  would  resolve  to  be 
watchful  all  the  coming  week  to  guard  against  sin,  and  to 
keep  his  heart  right.  But  he  found  it  very  hard  to  control 
the  conduct  of  one  day  by  the  resolutions  of  the  preceding. 
Saturday  night  would  come,  and  he  would  wake  up,  as  it 
were,  from  his  dream  of  business  and  pleasure,  and  find  that 
his  spiritual  work  had  been  entirely  neglected  and  forgotten 
during  the  week.  Half  ashamed,  and  half  vexed  with  him- 
self, he  would  renew  good  resolutions,  to  neglect  and  forget 
them  again  as  before.  What  could  he  do  ?  There  was  no 
want  of  good  intention  in  his  hours  of  solitude,  but  how  to 
give  these  intentions  an  arm  long  enough  to  reach  through 
the  week ; — how  to  make  the  resolutions  of  retirement  bind- 
ing upon  the  conduct  during  the  business  and  bustle  of  life, 
was  a  sore  perplexity  to  him.  If  he  did  not  think  of  his 
resolutions  at  the  right  time,  of  course  he  could  not  keep 
them,  and  he  could  contrive  no  way  to -secure  thinking  of 
them  at  the  right  time.  There  was  another  difficulty  which 


WORKS    AND   FAITH.  35 


Resolutions.  Hoping  for  a  more  convenient  season. 

very  much  perplexed  and  troubled  Alonzo  in  his  attempts  to 
reform  himself.  Sometimes  it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to 
control  his  wrong  feelings.  When  he  became  vexed  and 
irritated,  as  he  sometimes  did,  about  his  work,  or  when  out 
of  humor  on  account  of  some  restraint  which  his  mother  laid 
upon  him,  he  was  conscious  that  his  feelings  were  wrong, 
and  he  would  struggle  against  them,  as  he  said,  with  all  his 
strength,  but  he  could  not  conquer  them.  He  thought  he 
succeeded  partially ;  but  he  was  deceived.  It  was  even 
worse  than  he  supposed.  For  all  the  effect  of  his  struggling 
was  only  to  restrain  the  outward  manifestation  of  his  feel- 
ings, while  they  burned  on,  in  his  heart,  the  same.  They 
were  too  strong  for  him,  he  perceived ;  and  then,  in  his  de- 
spondency, he  would  get  lost  in  the  metaphysical  difficulties 
of  the  question  how  far  he  could  be  blamed  for  what  it 
seemed  to  him  he  could  not  help. 

Thus,  in  ordinary  temptations,  Alonzo  never  could  think 
of  his  resolutions,  and  in  extraordinary  ones,  he  never  could 
keep  them,  and  he  knew  not  what  to  do.  And  yet  he  was 
not  very  solicitous  or  anxious  about  it.  There  was  indeed  a 
vague  idea  afloat  in  his  mind  that  there  was  a  great  work  to 
be  done,  which  was  involved  in  some  peculiar  difficulties, — 
a  work  which  he  was  yet  only  partially  performing.  He  de- 
termined to  take  hold  of  it  soon,  in  earnest.  In  the  winter, 
it  was  so  cold  that  he  could  not  conveniently  spend  as  much 
time  alone  as  he  wished.  He  thought  that  when  the  warm 
spring  evenings  should  come,  he  could  enjoy  more  solitude, 
and  that  the  spring,  therefore,  would  be  a  more  convenient 
season.  When  the  spring  came,  the  farm  became  a  very 
busy  scene,  and  he  was  pressed  with  work  ;  he  looked  for- 
ward, then,  for  a  time  of  a  little  greater  leisure.  But  when 
planting  was  done,  there  was  haying,  and  after  haying,  har- 
vesting. Then  Alonzo  thought  that  in  a  few  months  he 
should  be  of  age,  and  consequently  free,  and  that,  when  that 


36  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Alonzo's  new  home.  Preparation*. 

time  should  come,  he  would  make  such  arrangements  as  to 
have  the  more  perfect  command  of  his  time.  Thus  he 
passed  on,  thinking  that  he  was  watching  for  an  opportunity 
to  do  his  duty.  But  he  was  deceived.  The  secret  was  an 
innate  dislike  and  repugnance  to  the  work  of  doing  it.  There 
was  a  strange  inconsistency  in  his  ideas.  When  he  tried  to 
purify  and  reform  his  heart,  he  found,  or  thought  he  found, 
that  he  could  not  do  it.  And  yet  he  had  an  impression, 
vague  and  undefined,  and  yet  fixed  and  confided  in,  that  he 
could  take  it  up  easily  at  any  time,  and  therefore  it  was  of 
the  less  consequence  that  he  waited  for  a  little  more  conveni- 
ent season. 

The  postponement  of  a  thorough  attention  to  the  work  did 
not  give  him  any  particular  uneasiness,  for  he  was  conscious 
that  though  he  was  not  doing  his  duty  quite  earnestly 
enough,  he  still  was  not  entirely  neglecting  it. 

Alonzo's  father  had  purchased  for  him  a  small  farm,  a 
mile  or  two  from  his  own,  and  Alonzo  was  now,  for  some 
months,  much  interested  in  his  preparations  for  taking  pos- 
session of  it  when  he  should  be  twenty-one ;  and  then  for 
many  months  afterward,  his  whole  soul  was  engrossed  in  his 
plans  and  labors  for  repairing  the  premises,  getting  his  stock 
in  good  order,  and  putting  the  first  seed  of  his  own  into  the 
ground.  During  these  months,  he  remained  still  a  member 
of  his  father's  family,  his  own  little  farm-house  being  empty 
and  desolate.  Occasionally,  however,  a  piece  of  furniture 
was  brought  there,  and  he  would  carry  it  in  and  set  it  hi  its 
place,  and  then  survey  it  again  and  again  with  a  look  of 
satisfaction.  First  came  a  stained,  birch  bureau,  then  a 
half-dozen  chairs,  then  a  bedstead.  A  few  simple  instru- 
ments for  the  kitchen  followed,  and  a  load  of  wood  was  piled 
up  in  the  yard, — in  short  the  house  began  to  look  as  if  it  was 
really  intended  to  be  occupied. 


WORKS    AND    FAITH. 


37 


Taking  possession. 


A  bard  duty. 


Conscience  again. 


THE    BRIDE. 


At  length,  one  even- 
ing, lights  were  seen 
by  the  distant  neigh- 
bors in  both  the  rooms, 
— for  there  were  but 
two.  Busy  prepara- 
tions were  going  for- 
ward, and  at  eight 
o'clock,  Alonzo  drove 
up  to  the  door  in  his 
own  sleigh,  and  hand- 
ed out,  first  his  sister, 
and  then  the  bride, 
whom  he  had  brought 
to  share  with  him  the 
responsibilities  of  hie 
new  home. 

Alonzo  led  his  horse  away  to  the  barn,  took  oft' the  har- 
ness and  fastened  him  to  his  crib,  previously  filled  to  the  top 
with  hay.  While  doing  this,  he  could  not  help  thinking  of 
his  obligations  to  God  for  the  circumstances  of  prosperity,  and 
the  prospects  of  happiness,  under  which  his  life  had  been  com- 
menced. He  thought  he  ought  to  be  grateful.  But  this,  as 
he  afterward  found,  was  a  different  thing  from  actually  be- 
ing grateful.  At  any  rate,  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  his 
obligations,  and  of  the  duty  of  gratitude,  and  this  reminded 
him  of  the  question  whether  he  should  commence,  that  even- 
ing, family  prayer. 

"  It  is  your  duty  to  do  it,"  said  Conscience. 

"  You  will  not  do  it  properly.  You  will  be  embarrassed 
and  perplexed  :  you  can  not  begin  to-night,"  said  Distrust. 

"Still,"  said  Conscience  again,  "it  is  your  duty  to  do 
it." 

"  You  had  better  wait  a  day  or  two  till  you  get  settled,— 


215108 


38  THE   WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

No  gain  in  delay.  The  inquiry  meeting. 

it  will  be  much  easier,  and  more  pleasant  then,"  said  a  lying 
spirit  of  evasion  and  delay. 

"  It  is  your  duty  to  do  it  to-night,"  murmured  Conscience 
again. 

Distracted  by  the  discordant  thoughts  within  him,  Alonzo 
cut  short  their  clamor,  by  saying  to  himself  that  he  could  not 
begin  that  night,  and  hurried  in ;  and  the  murmurs  of  con- 
science grew  feebler,  and  feebler,  and  at  length  died  com- 
pletely away. 

Alonzo  was  not  to  blame  for  his  diffidence, — he  was  not 
to  blame  for  shrinking  from  embarrassment,  or  for  consider- 
ing the  duty  before  him  a  real  trial, — but  if  he  had  actually 
been  grateful  to  God  for  his  goodness,  instead  of  merely 
thinking  that  he  ought  to  be  so,  he  would  have  pressed  for- 
ward with  alacrity  to  the  fulfillment  of  this  duty  toward  him, 
even  if  it  had  been  ten  times  as  painful  to  perform. 

Alonzo  found  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  begin  the  duty, 
the  longer  he  postponed  it.  A  month  passed  away,  and  it 
continued  to  be  neglected.  It  was  his  design  to  read  the 
Bible  every  day,  but  it  seemed  rather  awkward  to  sit  down 
before  his  wife,  and  read  it  silently  and  alone,  and  he  gradu- 
ally neglected  that.  At  night,  as  he  went  to  bed,  he  usually 
offered  a  sort  of  brief  ejaculation,  which  was,  in  fact,  though 
he  did  not  perceive  it,  a  sort  of  compromise  with  Conscience, 
to  induce  her  to  let  him  rest  in  peace.  He  did  not,  how- 
ever, feel  happy  in  this  mode  of  life.  Uneasiness  and  anxiety 
rankled  in  his  heart  more  and  more,  and  one  evening,  after 
hearing  a  plain  and  heartfelt  sermon  from  his  minister  in  the 
school-house  near  his  farm,  he  heard  him,  with  pleasure,  ap- 
point, what  in  New  England  is  called  "  an  inquiry  meet- 
ing," the  next  evening,  at  his  house.  The  design  of  such  a 
meeting  is,  to  afford  an  opportunity  for  more  plain,  and  direct, 
and  familiar  religious  instruction  to  those  who  feel  a  personal 


WORKS   AND    FAITH.  39 


Scene.  The  pastor's  remarks. 

interest  in  it,  than  the  formal  discourse,  offered  to  a  promis- 
cuous assembly,  can  well  contain. 

Alonzo  and  his  wife  both  resolved  to  go, — and  early  in  the 
evening  they  took  their  seats  with  twenty  others  around  their 
pastor's  fireside.  Such  a  meeting  is  one  of  great  interest  and 
solemnity.  It  is  understood  that  all  present  feel  a  direct  per- 
sonal interest  in  respect  to  their  own  salvation,  and  they 
come  together  with  a  stillness  and  solemnity,  which  scarcely 
any  other  assembly  exhibits. 

The  pastor  sat  by  the  side  of  the  fire.  First  he  read  a 
hymn.  It  was  not  sung.  Then  he  offered  a  short  and  simple 
prayer.  He  then  addressed  the  little  assembly  much  as 
follows  : 

"  The  most  important  question  which  you  can  ask  respect- 
ing yourselves,  is,  '  Am  I  the  friend  or  the  enemy  of  my  Ma- 
ker ?'  Now,  probably,  there  is  not  one  here,  who  really 
feels  that  he  is  his  Maker's  enemy,  and  yet  it  is  very  possible 
that  there  is  not  one  who  is  not*  so. 

"  God  justly  requires  us  all  to  love  him, — that  is,  to  feel 
a  personal  affection  for  him,  and  to  act  under  the  influence 
of  it.  They  who  do  not,  he  considers  as  not  belonging  to 
his  spiritual  family.  They  are  his  enemies.  Not  that  they 
are  employed  directly  and  intentionally  in  opposing  him  ; — 
they  make  perhaps  no  demonstrations  of  actual  hostility  :  but 
in  heart,  they  dislike  him.  To  determine,  therefore,  whether 
we  are  the  friends  or  the  enemies  of  God,  we  must  ascertain 
whether  our  secret  hearts  are  in  a  state  of  love,  or  of  dislike 
toward  him. 

"  Methinks,  now,  I  hear  you  say  to  yourselves,  while  I 
make  these  remarks,  '  I  am  sure  that  I  love  God  in  some  de- 
gree, though  I  know  I  do  not  love  him  as  much  as  I  ought. 
I  pray  to  him,  I  try  in  some  things  to  do  my  duty,  I  am,  in 
Borne  degree  at  least,  grateful  for  his  goodness,  and  I  can  not 


40  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Common  mistakes  made. 

perceive  in  myself  any  evidence  of  a  feeling  of  dislike  or  hos- 
tility.' " 

The  pastor  was  right,  at  least  in  one  instance,  for  these 
were  exactly  the  thoughts  which  were  passing  through 
Alonzo's  mind. 

"  Now,  it  is  a  difficult  thing  to  tell,"  continued  he,  "  what 
the  state  of  our  hearts  is, — or  rather  it  is  a  very  easy  and  a 
very  common  thing  to  be  deceived  about  it.  I  will  tell  you 
how. 

"1.  By  mistaking  approbation  for  love.  We  can  not 
help  approving  God's  character.  We  can  not  deny  the  ex- 
cellence of  justice,  mercy,  and  holiness,  any  more  than  we 
can  the  directness  of  a  straight  line  which  we  look  upon. 
Approbation  is  the  decision  of  the  intellect  or  of  the  moral 
sense,  and  is  entirely  independent  of  the  feelings  of  the  heart. 
I  once  asked  a  young  man  whether  he  thought  he  loved 
God.  '  0  yes,'  said  he  '  certainly.  I  think  our  Maker  is 
worthy  of  all  our  praise  and  gratitude.'  He  was  blind  to 
the  distinction,  you  see,  completely.  He  thought  his  Maker 
was  worthy.  Of  course  ; — he  could  not  help  thinking  that. 
The  question  is  not,  whether  God  is  worthy  of  love  and  grati- 
tude, but  whether,  in  our  hearts,  we  really  render  these  feel- 
ings. Now  it  is  very  possible  that  if  you  look  honestly  into 
your  hearts  you  will  find  that  all  your  supposed  love  for  God 
is  only  a  cold,  intellectual  admission  of  the  excellence  of  his 
character.  This  may  exist  without  any  personal  feelings  of 
affection  toward  him. 

"  2.  The  second  delusion  is  similar.  We  pray,  and  while 
doing  so  we  make  effort  to  confine  our  attention  to  our  pray- 
ers,— or,  as  we  term  it,  to  think  what  we  are  saying.  This 
we  mistake  for  really  feeling  the  desires  which  we  express. 
I  doubt  not  that  many  of  you  are  in  the  habit  of  prayer,  and 


WORKS    AND    FAITH.  41 


Difference  between  understanding  and  feeling.  Spurious  gratitude. 

that  you  often  strive  to  confine  your  mind  to  what  you  are 
saying.  Now  you  may  do  all  this,  without  having  in  the 
heart  any  real  desires  for  the  forgiveness  and  the  holiness 
and  the  other  blessings  that  you  ask  for.  In  fact,  the  very 
effort  which  you  make  to  confine  your  mind,  proves,  or  rather 
indicates  very  strongly,  that  the  heart  is  somewhere  else  ;  for 
the  mind  goes  easily  where  the  heart  is,  and  stays  there, 
without  any  great  effort  to  confine  it. 

"3.  There  is  another  delusion  similar  to  the  foregoing. 
Thanking  God  without  gratitude.  We  see  that  he  is  our 
benefactor,  and  that  he  deserves  our  gratitude.  We  say  this, 
and  feel  satisfied  with  it, — never  reflecting  that  this  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  actually  feeling  gratitude. 

"  For  instance,  we  may  rise  in  the  morning,  and  look  out 
upon  the  pleasant  landscape  before  us,  in  the  midst  of  which 
we  are  to  work  during  the  day,  and  think  of  our  pleasant 
homes,  our  friends,  and  all  our  comforts  and  means  of  happi- 
ness, which  we  are  now  to  enjoy  for  another  day, — the 
thought  of  all  these  things  gives  us  pleasure.  We  feel  a" 
kind  of  complacency  in  them  which,  connected  with  our 
knowing  that  they  come  from  God,  we  mistake  for  gratitude. 
We  thus  often  think  we  are  grateful,  when  the  only  feeling 
is  a  pleasant  recognition  of  the  good  enjoyed.  The  differ- 
ence is  shown  in  this,  that  this  latter  feeling  has  no  effect 
upon  the  conduct,  whereas  real  gratitude  will  lead  us  to  take 
pleasure  in  doing  our  benefactor's  will.  Even  a  painful  duty 
will  become  a  pleasant  one,  for  we  always  love  to  make  a 
sacrifice  for  one  who  has  been  kind  to  us,  if  we  are  really 
grateful  to  him." 

Alonzo  here  recollected  the  evening  when  he  took  posses- 
sion of  his  new  home,  thinking  that  he  was  grateful  to  God 
for  it,  while  yet  "  he  could  not"  do  that  evening  what  ho 
knew  was  God's  will. 


42  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Indications  of  enmity.  Alonzo's  self-application. 

"  In  a  word,"  continued  the  pastor,  "we  mistake  the  con- 
victions of  the  understanding,  and  of  the  moral  sense,  for  the 
movements  of  the  heart ;  whereas,  the  former  may  be  all 
right,  and  the  latter  all  wrong. 

"  I  will  tell  you  now  some  of  the  indications  that  a  person 
really  in  heart  dislikes  God,  even  if  his  understanding  is  right 
in  respect  to  his  character  and  his  favors. 

"1.  When  his  feelings  do  not  go  forth  spontaneously  and 
pleasantly  toward  him.  Payson  once  said  to  his  child,  '  Have 
you  not  sometimes  felt,  when  thinking  of  some  person  whom 
you  loved,  and  who  was  away  from  you,  as  if  your  heart 
went  out  to  that  person,  and  then  it  seemed  as  if  the  distance 
between  you  was  lessened,  though  it  was  not  in  reality  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  when  you  think  of  a  person  whom  you  do  not 
like,  your  heart  draws  back,  as  it  were,  and  shrinks  coldly 
from  him.  Now  just  tell  me  in  which  of  these  ways  it  is 
affected  when  you  think  of  God.'  " 

Alonzo  recollected  how  readily,  when  he  was  at  work  on 
the  hill  side,  or  in  the  distant  forest,  his  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions would  roam  away  to  his  wife  and  his  home,  and  hover 
there.  He  saw  too  clearly,  also,  that  his  heart  never  thus 
sought  God. 

"  2  Another  evidence  of  our  disliking  God  is,  when  we 
escape  from  his  presence  as  soon  as  we  can.  When  we  cut 
short  our  prayers,  and  our  thoughts  come  back  with  a  spring 
to  our  business  or  our  pleasures,  as  if  we  had  kept  them  on 
God  for  a  few  minutes  by  force  ; — when  the  Sabbath  is  a 
weariness,  and  secret  communion  with  him  a  burden." 

Alonzo  felt  that  the  pastor  was  describing  his  feelings  ex- 
actly. 

"  3.  Also  when  we  hold  back  a  little  from  cordial  acquies- 


WORKS    AND    FAITH.  43 


The  closing  prayer.  Its  effects  upon  Alonzo. 

cence  in  God's  justice,  and  in  his  fearful  decision  in  punish- 
ing sin,  both  as  exhibited  in  his  daily  dealings  of  mankind, 
and  in  the  Bible.  We  shrink  from  some  things  in  his  ad- 
ministration, just  as  one  condemned  malefactor  is  shocked  at 
what  he  calls  the  cruelty  of  the  government  in  executing  an- 
other. 

"  Now  do  you,  when  examined  by  these  tests,  love  God, 
or  dislike  him  ?" 

It  was  plain  from  the  appearance  of  the  assembly,  that 
they  felt  condemned.  The  pastor  perceived  that  they  pleaded 
guilty.  He  closed  his  remarks  by  these  words, 

"  You  ought  to  love  God.  He  commands  you  to  do  it. 
You  ought  to  have  loved  him  all  your  lives  ; — you  ought  to 
love  him  now.  He  will  forgive  all  the  past  for  his  Son's 
sake,  if  you  will  now  simply  turn  your  hearts  to  him.  Ought 
you  not  to  do  it  ?" 

"  I  will  do  it,"  thought  Alonzo,  as  they  kneeled  once  more, 
to  offer  their  parting  prayer.  The  pastor  uttered  expressions 
of  penitence,  gratitude,  affection,  but  Alonzo  perceived  that 
notwithstanding  his  determination,  his  heart  did  not  follow. 
The  more  he  tried  to  force  himself  to  love  God,  the  more 
clearly  he  perceived  the  distinctions  which  the  pastor  had 
been  drawing,  and  the  more  painfully  evident  it  was  to  him 
that  he  had  no  heart  to  love  God.  He  rose  from  his  knees 
with  a  thought, — half  impatience  and  half  despair, — "  I  do 
not  love  him,  and  I  can  not  love  him.  •  What  shall  I  do  ?" 

For  many  weeks,  Alonzo  was  much  discouraged  and 
distressed.  He  saw  more  and  more  clearly,  that  he  did 
not  love  God,  and  that  he  never  had  loved  him.  Con- 
science upbraided  him,  and  he  had  little  peace.  Yet  he 
would  not  come  and  yield  his  heart  to  his  Maker.  He 


44  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Alonzo  in  deeper  difficulty  than  ever. 

thought  he  wished  to  do  it, — as  if  it  were  possible  for  a 
person,  to  wish  to  love,  without  loving.  He  struggled, — 
but  struggling  did  no  good.  What  God  commands  us  to 
do,  is  to  love  him,  not  to  struggle  against  our  hatred  of 
him.  He  set  a  double  watch  over  his  conduct ;  he  was 
more  regular  in  his  prayers,  more  attentive  to  the  Scriptures, 
and  to  every  means  of  instruction.  But  all  seemed  to  do  no 
good.  His  heart  was  still  alienated  from  God,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  to  become  alienated  more  and  more. 

There  were  three  great  difficulties  which  he  experienced, 
and  which  perplexed  and  troubled  him  exceedingly. 

First,  it  really  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  not  change  his 
heart ;  he  could  not  force  himself  to  love  God  and  repent  of 
sin.  He  also  could  not  help  the  wrong  and  wicked  feelings 
which  often  raged  within  him,  on  occasions  of  peculiar 
temptation.  I  am  aware  that  the  theological  philosophers 
disagree  on  this  subject,  but  it  really  seemed  to  Alonzo, 
that  his  wicked  heart  was  too  strong  for  him.'  This  thought, 
however,  did  not  make  him  easy.  Conscience  upbraided 
him  the  more,  for  being  in  such  a  state  of  heart  toward  God. 

Secondly,  the  more  he  thought  of  the  subject,  and  the  more 
he  tried  to  make  himself  fit  for  heaven,  the  more  hollow  and 
superficial  and  hypocritical  he  found  all  his  supposed  good- 
ness to  be.  The  law  of  God  claiming  his  heart,  had  come 
home  to  his  apprehension,  and  brought  a  new  standard  before 
him.  His  supposed  gratitude  and  penitence,  his  prayers,  and 
all  the  virtues  on  which  he  had  prided  himself,  resolved  them- 
selves into  elements  of  corruption  and  sin,  under  the  power- 
ful analysis  of  the  Spirit. 

Thirdly,  in  trying  to  correct  his  sinful  habits,  his  progress 
in  discovering  his  sins  went  on  far  in  advance  of  his  success 
in  purifying  himself  from  them,  so  that  in  his  attempts  to 
reform  his  heart,  he  was  continually  alarmed  at  new  and 
unexpected  exposures.  In  fact  the  law  of  God  had  come 


WORKS    AND    FAITH.  45 


"  Sin  revived."       Conviction  not  conversion.      Alonzo's  excuses  and  difficulties. 

home  to  him,  and  as  oil  upon  the  fresh  surface  of  a  variegated 
wood  brings  out  the  dark  stains  which  had  before  been 
invisible,  it  developed  corruptions  and  sins  in  his  heart, 
which  he  had  never  supposed  to  be  slumbering  there.  He 
was  alive  without  the  law  once,  but  when  the  command- 
ment came,  SIN  REVIVED  and  he  died  : — his  heart  sunk  within 
him,  to  see  his  sad  spiritual  condition.  In  a  word,  Alonzo 
opened  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  excellences  of  character 
which  circumstances  had  produced  in  him  were  external, 
and  superficial,  and  that  he  was  in  heart,  and  that  he  always 
had  been,  the  enemy  of  God,  and  the  miserable,  helpless  slave 
of  sin. 

Though  he  was  thus,  in  some  degree,  aware  of  the  con- 
dition of  his  heart,  yet  that  condition  was  not  altered.  The 
trouble  with  him  was,  that  he  still  disliked  God,  and  loved 
the  world  and  sin,  but  conscience  pressed  him  with  the  guilt 
of  it,  and  he  feared  a  judgment  to  come.  Instead,  however, 
of  throwing  himself  fully  upon  God  and  giving  him  his  heart, 
he  still  kept  away,  alienated  and  miserable.  He  had  certain 
excuses  with  which  he  unconsciously  deceived  himself,  and 
was  gradually  lulling  his  conscience  to  rest,  when  one  day  he 
had  a  private  interview  with  his  pastor,  in  which  he  pre- 
sented his  excuses,  and  they  were  answered.  These  excuses, 
and  the  replies  made  by  the  pastor  to  them,  were,  in  sub- 
stance, somewhat  as  follows. 

"  I  do  feel,  sir,  that  I  am  a  most  miserable  sinner,  but  I 
do  not  know  what  to  do.  I  have  been  now  seeking  religion 
for  many  years,  and  the  more  I  seek  it,  the  farther  I  seem  to 
be  from  it." 

"  What  more,  then,  can  you  do  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know." 

"  Then  why  does  not  your  heart  rest  quietly  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  been  faithful  to  the  utmost  in  duty  ? 
God  requires  no  more." 


46  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

His  heart.  Helplessness. 

Alonzo  hung  his  head.  He  perceived  the  absurdity  of  his 
excuse. 

"  No,"  said  the  pastor.  "  You  show  by  that  remark,  how 
easily  and  completely  the  heart  deceives  itself.  Upbraided 
as  you  are  by  conscience,  for  guilt  in  disliking  and  disobeying 
God, — reproached  so  severely  and  continually  too,  that  you 
can  not  rest,  you  yet  say  to  me  that  which  implies  that  you 
have  done  and  are  doing  all  which  God  requires." 

Alonzo  sighed  ;  it  was  too  true. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  he  ;  "  it  is  just  so.  I  continually  find 
some  new  proof  of  the  corruption  and  deceitfulness  of  my 
heart.  I  want  to  change  it,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  can 
not." 

"You  speak  as  if  your  heart  were  one  party,  and  you 
another,  and  as  if  you  were  right,  and  all  the  blame  rested 
upon  your  heart,  as  an  enemy  that  had  insinuated  itself  by 
some  means  into  your  bosom.  Now  what  is  your  heart  ? — 
why  it  is  simply  yourself ; — your  moral  character  and  moral 
feelings.*  To  talk  of  a  contention  between  yourself  and 
your  heart,  is  a  complete  absurdity,  for  the  parties  in  the 
contest  are  one  and  the  self-same  thing.  The  struggle,  if 
there  is  any,  is  between  the  claims  of  God's  law,  urged  by 
his  Spirit,  on  the  one  side,  and  you  or  your  heart  resisting 
on  the  other.  He  commands  you  to  give  him  your  heart, 
that  is  yourself, — your  affections,  your  love,  and  you  do  not 
do  it." 

"  I  know  it,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  can  not  do  it.  I  am 
conscious  that  my  affections  are  not  given  to  God, — they 
will  cling  to  the  world  and  sin,  and  I  can  not  help  it." 

"  The  feelings,  however,  which  you  can  not  help,  you 
admit  to  be  wrong  feelings." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  feel  and  know  that  they  are  wrong,  and  that 
is  what  makes  me  miserable." 

*  Payson. 


WORKS   AND    FAITH.  47 


Struggling  with  sin. 


"  Then  you  are  more  guilty  than  I  supposed.  What 
should  you  say,  if  you  knew  of  a  man  who  said  he  had 
such  an  uncontrollable  desire  to  steal  or  to  kill  that  he 
could  not  help  continually  committing  these  crimes  ?  Should 
you  think  him  worse  or  better  than  those  who  sinned  occa- 
ionally  under  strong  temptation  ?" 

"  But  I  struggle  against  the  feelings,  and  can  not  conquer 
them." 

"  And  suppose  such  a  man  as  I  have  described,  should 
meet  you  in  a  lonely  place,  and  should  tell  you  that  he 
must  rob  and  murder  you, — that  he  had  been  struggling 
against  the  disposition,  but  it  was  too  strong  for  him.  What 
would  you  think  of  him  ?  Why  plainly,  that  he  was  a  man 
of  extraordinary  depravity.  The  greater  the  struggle,  the 
greater  the  evidence  of  the  wickedness  which  could  not  be 
overcome.  Our  duty  is  to  feel  right  toward  God,  not  to 
struggle  with  wrong  feelings." 

"  I  feel  that  that  is  true.  But  what  to  do,  I  do  not  know. 
It  really  seems  to  me  that  I  wish  to  repent  of  sin  and  forsake 
it,  but — but — " 

"  But  you  do  not,  and  therefore  it  is  impossible  that  you 
should  wish  to.  There  is  no  force  applied  to  you,  to  continue 
you  in  sin.  If  there  was,  your  conduct  would  not  be  sin. 
To  wish  to  repent,  without  repenting,  is  as  impossible  and 
absurd,  as  to  wish  to  be  sorry  for  something  for  which  you 
are  really  glad.  I  have  no  doubt  you  really  think  you  wish 
to  repent,  but  I  think  you  deceive  yourself.  What  you  wish 
for,  is  some  of  the  results  which  you  suppose  would  follow 
from  repentance.  This  is  what  the  desires  of  your  mind  rest 
upon  ;  but  repentance  itself  looks  disagreeable  and  repulsive, 
and  as  you  can  not  gain  those  results  in  any  other  way,  you 
are  troubled  and  distressed." 

Alonzo  saw  at  once  by  a  glance  within,  that  this  was  true, 
He  longed  for  peace  of  mind, — relief  from  the  reproaches  of 


48  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Beginning  life  anew,  a  yain  wish. 

conscience, — the  reputation  and  the  standing  of  a  Christian 
here,  and  assurance  of  safety  and  happiness  hereafter ;  but 
he  perceived  that  he  did  not  long  for  penitence  itself.  It 
was  a  disagreeable  means  of  obtaining  a  desirable  end.  He 
was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  he  said,  with  a  sigh, 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  begin  life  anew.  I  would  live 
in  a  very  different  manner  from  what  I  have  done." 

"  That  remark  shows  how  little  you  know,  after  all,  of 
your  own  character,  and  of  the  way  of  salvation.  It  is  not 
by  purifying  ourselves,  and  thus  making  ourselves  fit  for 
heaven, — or  by  any  such  ideas  as  should  suggest  the  plan 
of  beginning  life  anew.  If  you  should  begin,  you  would 
undoubtedly  be  again  as  you  have  been." 

Alonzo  saw  that  this  was  true.  He  was  ashamed  that 
he  had  expressed  such  a  wish,  and  at  length  asked,  in  a 
sorrowful,  desponding  tone,  whether  his  pastor  could  say 
nothing  to  aid  or  guide  him. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  can,"  was  the  reply.  "  The  diffi- 
culty is  not  the  want  of  knowledge  of  duty,  but  the  want  of 
a  heart  to  do  it.  If  you  had  the  right  desires,  your  difficul- 
ties would  all  be  over  in  a  moment,  but  as  you  have  not,  I 
can  not  impart  them.  Since  you  are  thus  bent  on  sin,  God 
alone  can  change  you. 

"  I  will  ask  you,  however,  one  question.  Do  you  clearly 
understand  what  this  verse  means,  '  For  they,  being  ignorant 
of  God's  righteousness,  and  going  about  to  establish  their 
own  righteousness,  have  not  submitted  themselves  to  the 
righteousness  of  God ;  for  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  to  every  one  that  believeth.'  " 

"No,  sir,  I  have  never  thought  of  it  particularly." 

"  You  feel  in  some  degree  the  hopelessness  of  your  condi- 
tion, if  God  should  leave  you  to  yourself.  You  have  been 
neglecting  your  highest  duty  all  your  days,  and  in  your 
efforts  to  seek  religion,  you  have  been  endeavoring  to  set 


WORKS   AND   FAITH.  49 


Self-righteousness.  Repairing  an  old  house. 

yourself  right,  with  an  idea  of  thus  recommending  yourself 
to  God's  favor.  You  have  been  discouraged  and  disheart- 
ened by  this  hopeless  labor,  for  the  farther  you  proceed  in 
your  efforts  to  repair  your  character,  the  more  deep  and 
extended  do  you  find  the  proofs  of  its  inherent  corruption  and 
depravity. 

"  You  are  like  the  man  attempting  to  repair  a  house  gone 
thoroughly  to  decay,"  continued  the  pastor,  and  as  he  said 
these  words,  he  took  down  from  a  little  set  of  shelves  behind 
him,  a  small  volume,  from  which  he  read  the  following 
passage. 

"'The  sinner  going  about  to  establish  a  righteousness 
of  his  own,  is  like  a  man  endeavoring  to  repair  his  house, 
which  had  thoroughly  gone  to  decay.  When  he  begins, 
there  is  a  tolerably  fair  exterior.  It  appears  as  if  a  few 
nails  to  tighten  what  is  loose, — a  little  new  flooring, — and 
here  and  there  a  fresh  sill,  will  render  all  snug  again  ;  and 
that  by  means  of  these,  together  with  paint  and  paper  and 
whitewash,  to  give  the  proper  superficial  decoration,  all 
will  be  well, — or,  at  least,  that  his  building  will  be  as  good 
as  his  neighbor's.  When  he  begins,  however,  he  finds  that 
there  is  a  little  more  to  be  done  than  he  had  expected. 
The  first  board  that  he  removes  in  order  to  replace  it  by  a 
better,  reveals  one  in  a  worse  condition  behind  it.  He 
drives  a  nail  to  tighten  a  clapboard,  and  it  sinks  into  de- 
cayed wood  behind,  taking  no  hold ;  he  takes  away  more, 
by  little  and  little,  hoping  at  every  removal,  to  come  to  the 
end  of  what  is  unsound  ;  but  he  finds  that  the  more  he  does, 
the  more  disheartened  and  discouraged  he  feels,  for  his 
progress  in  learning  the  extent  of  the  decay,  keeps  far  in 
advance  of  his  progress  in  repairing  it,  until  at  last  he  finds, 
to  his  consternation,  that  every  beam  is  gone, — every  rafter 
worm-eaten  and  decayed,  the  posts  pulverized  by  the  dry 

C 


50  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  parallel  case.  The  true  way  of  salvation. 

rot,  and  the  foundations  cracked  and  tottering.  There  is  no 
point  to  start  from  in  making  his  repairs,  no  foundation  to 
build  upon.  The  restoration  of  the  edifice  to  strength  and 
beauty  can  never  be  accomplished,  and  if  it  could,  the  ex- 
pense would  far  exceed  his  pecuniary  power.  His  building 
only  looks  the  worse  for  his  having  broken  its  superficial  con- 
tinuity. He  has  but  revealed  the  corruption  which  he  never 
can  remove  or  repair.' 

"  Now  does  not  this  correspond  with  your  efforts  and  dis- 
appointments during  the  last  few  months  ?" 

"  Exactly,"  said  Alonzo. 

"  And  your  case  is  hopeless  if  God  leaves  you  to  yourself. 
You  can  not  be  saved.  It  is  not  that  you  can  not  come  and 
be  the  child  of  God  if  you  wish  to,  but  you  can  not  come, 
because  you  do  not  wish  to. 

"  Now  this  being  your  condition,  you  need  a  Savior.  There 
is  one  for  you.  If  you  wish,  you  can  come  and  unite  your- 
self with  him.  If  you  do,  through  his  sufferings  and  death 
you  may  be  freely  forgiven.  The  responsibility,  the  liability, 
so  to  speak,  for  the  past  will  be  cut  off.  The  Savior  assumes 
all  that  burden,  and  you  may  go  free.  By  coming  and  giv- 
ing yourself  up  wholly  to  him,  you  bring  your  past  life  as  it 
were  to  a  close,  and  begin  a  new  spiritual  life,  which  comes 
from  union  with  him.  The  burden  of  past  guilt  is  like  a 
heavy  chain,  which  you  have  been  dragging  along,  until  it 
is  too  heavy  to  be  borne  any  longer.  Union  with  Christ 
sunders  it  at  a  blow,  and  you  go  forward  free  and  happy, 
forgiven  for  all  the  past,  and  for  the  future  enjoying  a  new 
spiritual  life,  which  you  will  draw  from  him.  In  a  word, 
you  abandon  your  own  cJiaracter,  with  the  feelings  with 
which  a  man  would  abandon  a  wreck,  and  take  refuge  with 
Jesus  Christ,  who  will  receive  you,  and  procure  for  you  for- 


WORKS   AND    FAITH.  51 


Alonzo  renewed.  His  walk  home.  New  desires. 

giveness  for  the  past,  and  strength  for  the  future,  by  means 
of  his  own  righteousness  and  sufferings." 

Alonzo  had  heard  the  way  of  salvation  by  Christ  explained 
a  thousand  times  before,  but  it  always  seemed  a  mysticism 
to  him,  as  it  always  does  to  those  who  have  never  seen  their 
sins  and  felt  the  utter  hopelessness  of  their  moral  condition. 
As  long  as  man  is  deceived  about  his  true  character,  he 
needs  no  Savior.  But  when  he  detects  himself, — when  his 
eyes  are  opened,  and  his  deep-seated  corruptions  are  exposed, 
when  he  feels  the  chains  of  sin  holding  him  with  a  relentless 
gripe  in  hopelafcs  bondage, — then  he  finds  that  utter  self- 
abandonment  and  flying  for  refuge  to  union  with  a  Savior 
crucified  for  his  sins — making  thus  as  it  were,  common  cause 
with  a  divine  Redeemer  whose  past  sufierings  may  be  of 
avail  to  ransom  him,  and  who  will  supply  new  spiritual  life 
to  guide  him  in  future, — he  finds  this  prospect  opens  to  him 
a  refuge  just  such  as  he  needs. 

As  Alonzo  walked  home  from  this  interview,  his  heart 
dwelt  with  delight  on  the  love  of  Christ  to  men,  in  thus 
making  arrangements  for  taking  lost  sinners  into  such  an 
union  with  him.  His  heart  was  full.  There  was  no  strug- 
gling to  feel  this  love  and  gratitude.  It  was  the  warm, 
spontaneous  movement  of  his  soul,  which  no  struggling  could 
have  suppressed.  He  longed  for  an  occasion  to  do  something 
to  evince  his  gratitude.  It  was  evening,  and  he  looked  for- 
ward with  delight  to  the  opportunity  of  calling  together  his 
family  to  establish  family  prayers.  He  almost  wished  that 
the  exercise  was  twice  as  embarrassing  as  it  was,  for  it  seem- 
ed to  him  that  an  opportunity  to  suffer  some  real  pain  or 
sacrifice,  in  the  cause  of  his  Savior,  would  be  a  high  enjoy- 
ment to  him,  as  a  gratification  of  the  new  feelings  of  love 
which  burned  within  him. 

As  he  walked  along,  his  heart  clung,  as  it  were,  to  the  Sa- 
vior, with  a  feeling  of  quiet  happiness.  In  former  days,  he 


52  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  great  change.  Created  anew.  Address  to  the  reader. 

thought  he  loved  him,  deceived,  as  we  have  already  shown  ; 
— now  he  knew  that  he  loved  him.  He  saw  "  God  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,"  and  the  Savior  whom 
he  there  saw  was  all  in  all. 

When  he  opened  his  Bible,  old  familiar  passages,  which 
had  always  seemed  to  him  mystical  and  unintelligible,  shone 
with  new  meaning. 

"  Christ  has  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being 
made  a  curse  for  us."  "  Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have 
peace  with  God  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  "  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ,  nevertheless  I  live, — but  the  life  I  now  live  in 
the  flesh,  I  live  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  me 
and  gave  himself  for  me." 

Alonzo  made  greater  efforts  to  do  his  duty  after  this  than 
he  did  before,  but  it  was  for  a  different  object  and  in  a  dif- 
ferent way.  Then,  he  was  trying  to  establish  his  own 
righteousness,  so  as  to  fit  himself  for  heaven.  He  abandoned 
this  altogether  now,  having  hope  only  in  Christ, — undeserved 
mercy  in  Christ.  He,  however,  made  great  efforts  to  grow 
in  grace  and  do  good  to  others, — but  it  was  now  simply  be- 
cause he  loved  to  do  it.  Then  he  made  these  efforts  as  an 
unpleasant  but  a  supposed  necessary  means  to  a  desired  end. 
Now  he  hoped  to  secure  that  end  in  another  way,  and  he 
made  these  efforts,  because  they  were  delightful  on  their 
own  account.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  new  creature;  a  "NEW 
CREATURE  IN  CHRIST  JESUS  ;" — changed  not  by  his  vain 
efforts  to  establish  his  own  righteousness,  but  by  the  regener- 
ating influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  altering  fundamentally 
the  desires  and  affections  of  his  inmost  soul. 

Reader ! — in  going  forward  through  this  volume,  which 
will  explain  to  you  the  way  to  do  good,  if  your  aim  is  secretly 
or  openly  to  fit  yourself,  by  your  good  deeds,  for  the  approba- 
tion of  God,  and  thus  to  procure  the  pardon  of  your  sins, — 


WORKS    AND   FAITH.  53 

Conclusion. 

the  farther  you  go,  and  the  greater  the  effort  you  make,  the 
more  discouraged  and  disheartened  you  will  be.  For  your 
progress  in  discovering  the  corruption  and  depravity  of  your 
heart,  will  keep  far  in  advance  of  your  success  in  correcting 
or  repairing  it.  The  hopeless  task  may  as  well  be  abandoned 
in  the  beginning  as  at  the  end.  Come  first  to  the  Savior. 
Give  up  yourself,  your  character, — and  all  the  hopes  you  may 
have  founded  upon  it.  Unite  yourself  with  Christ  as  the 
branch  is  united  to  the  vine,  that  is,  so  as  to  be  sustained  by 
one  common  vitality.  This  will  of  course  be  a  new  life  to  you, 
a  spiritual  life,  without  which  all  excellence  is  superficial,  all 
hopes  of  eternal  happiness  baseless,  and  all  real  peace  and 
enjoyment  unknown. 


54  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Motives.  Happiness  secured  by  doing  good. 


CHAPTER   II. 

MOTIVES. 
"  That  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

The  last  chapter  was  intended  to  show  the  reader  that  the 
impulse  which  should  lead  us  to  the  performance  of  good 
works  hi  this  world  of  probation,  is  not  a  hope  of  thereby 
fitting  ourselves  by  meritorious  performances,  for  God's  ser- 
vice in  heaven  ;  but  a  spontaneous  love  for  God  and  man, 
urging  us  forward  in  such  a  course,  while  our  hope  of  forgive- 
ness for  sin  rests  on  other  grounds  altogether.  We  have 
some  other  considerations  in  respect  to  the  motives  which 
ought  to  influence  us  in  doing  good,  which  we  shall  present 
in  this  chapter. 

By  engaging  in  the  work  of  doing  good  to  others,  we  do 
not  by  any  means  sacrifice  our  own  happiness.  We  often, 
indeed,  give  up  some  of  the  ordinary  means  of  enjoyment, 
but  we  do  not  sacrifice  the  end.  We  secure  our  own  richest, 
purest  enjoyment,  though  in  a  new  and  better  way.  We 
change  the  character  of  our  happiness  too  ;  for  the  pleasure 
which  results  from  carrying  happiness  to  the  hearts  .of  others 
is  very  different  in  its  nature  from  that  which  we  secure  by 
aiming  directly  at  our  own.  Now  the  reader  ought  to  con- 
sider these  things,  and  understand  distinctly  at  the  outset, 
whether  he  is  in  such  a  state  of  mind  and  heart  that  he 
wishes  to  pursue  the  happiness  of  others,  or  whether,  on  the 


Scene  at  home. 


MOTIVES. 


The  stormy  evening. 


55 

Enjoyments. 


other  hand,  he  means  to  confine  his  efforts  to  the  promotion 
of  his  own. 

On  some  cold  winter  evening,  perhaps,  you  return  from  the 
business  of  the  day  to  your  home,  and  I  will  suppose  that 
you  have  there  the  comforts  of  life  all  around  you.  You 
draw  up  your  richly-stuffed  elbow-chair  by  the  side  of  the 
glowing  fire  which  beams  and  brightens  upon  the  scene  of 
elegance  which  your  parlor  exhibits.  A  new  and  entertain- 
ing book  is  in  your  hand,  and  fruits  and  refreshments  are  by 


your  side  upon  the  table.  Here  you  may  sit  hour  after  hour, 
enjoying  these  means  of  comfort  and  happiness,  carried  away 
perhaps  by  the  magic  of  the  pen  to  distant  and  different 
scenes,  from  which  you  return  now  and  then  to  listen  a  mo- 
ment to  the  roaring  of  the  wintry  wind,  or  the  beating  of  the 
snow  upon  your  windows.  If  you  have  a  quiet  conscience, 


56  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Another  plan.  The  walk. 

you  may  find  much  happiness  in  such  a  scene,  especially  if 
gratitude  to  God  as  the  bestower  of  such  comforts,  and  as 
your  kind  Protector  and  Friend,  warms  your  heart  and 
quickens  your  sensibilities.  Here  you  may  sit  hour  after  hour, 
until  Orion  has  made  his  steady  way  through  the  clouds  and 
storms  of  the  sky,  high  into  the  heavens. 

But  still  though  this  might  be  enjoyment,  there  is  another 
way  of  spending  an  hour  of  the  evening  which  would  also 
afford  enjoyment,  though  of  a  different  kind.  You  lay  aside 
your  book,  trundle  back  your  cushioned  chair, — pack  your 
fruit  and  refreshments  in  a  small  basket, — take  down  from 
your  secretary  a  little  favorite  volume  of  hymns,  and  then 
muffling  yourself  as  warmly  as  possible  in  cap  and  wrapper, 
you  sally  forth  in  the  midst  of  the  storm. 

The  wintry  wind  drives  through  silent  and  desolated 
streets.  The  doors  and  windows  of  the  houses  that  you  pass 
are  blockaded  with  the  fallen  snow.  A  solitary  passenger 
now  and  then  passes  hurriedly  along,  now  making  his  way 
through  deep  drifts,  and  now  walking  more  freely  over  a  spot 
which  the  wind  has  swept  bare.  A  single  carriage  is  pass- 
ing, mounted  upon  runners,  the  horses  plunging  through  the 
drifts.  The  carriage  glides  silently  along,  and  instead  of  the 
usual  thuudering  of  wheels,  and  trampling  of  horses  and 
men,  heard  in  the  streets  of  the  city,  there  is  now  no  sound 
but  the  howling  of  the  wind,  and  the  sharp  clicking  of  the 
hail  and  snow. 

The  brick  sidewalk  is  half  concealed  by  the  increasing 
drifts  among  which  you  make  your  slippery  way,  until  you 
turn  down  into  a  narrow  court,  guiding  your  steps  to  one  of 
its  humble  houses.  You  enter  by  a  low  door.  It  is  not, 
however,  the  abode  of  poverty.  There  is  comfort  and  plenty 
under  this  roof, — on  a  different  scale  indeed,  from  that  which 
you  have  left  at  home,  though  perhaps  not  at  all  inferior,  in 
respect  to  the  actual  enjoyment  they  afford. 


MOTIVES.  57 

The  sick  boy. 

The  mother  who  welcomes  you  is  a  widow,  and  the  daily 
lahor  of  her  hands  procures  for  her  all  that  is  necessary  for 
her  wants,  and  many  things  hesides,  which  she  enjoys  highly 
as  luxuries.  She  enjoys  them  more  highly,  perhaps,  than 
you  do  the  costly  splendors  that  you  have  left.  Her  bright 
brass  lamps,  which  she  toiled  several  days  to  earn,  and  the 
plain  rocking-chair  in  the  corner,  are  to  her  as  much,  and 
perhaps  more,  than  your  tall  astral  crowned  with  its  cut  glass 
shade,  or  your  splendid  ottoman. 

In  a  word,  all  the  wants  of  this  family  are  well  supplied, 
so  that  I  am  not  going  to  introduce  the  reader  to  a  scene  of 
pecuniary  charity,  as  he  may  perhaps  have  supposed.  You 
must  bring  something  more  valuable  than  money  here,  if 
you  wish  to  do  good.  You  have  something  more  valuable 
than  money — Christian  sympathy  ;  this  I  will  suppose  you 
to  bring. 

On  one  side  of  the  fire  is  a  cradle  which  the  mother  has  been 
rocking.  You  take  your  seat  in  a  low  chair  by  the  side  of  it, 
and  leaning  over  it,  you  look  upon  the  pale  face  of  a  little- 
sufferer  who  has  been  for  many  months  languishing  there. 
His  disease  has  curved  his  back,  and  brought  his  head  over 
toward  his  breast,  and  contracted  his  lungs,  and  he  lies  there 
in  bonds  which  death  only  can  sunder.  Something  like  a 
smile  lights  up  his  features  to  see  that  his  friend  has  come 
again  to  see  him  even  through  the  storm.  That  smile  and 
its  meaning  will  repay  you  for  all  the  cold  blasts  which  you 
encountered  on  your  way  to  the  sick-room.  After  a  few 
minutes'  conversation  with  the  boy,  you  ask  if  he  would  like 
to  have  you  walk  with  him  a  little.  He  reaches  up  his  arms 
to  you,  evidently  pleased  with  the  proposal,  and  you  lift  him. 
from  his  pillow ; — and  you  enjoy,  yourself,  more  even  than 
he  does,  the  relief  which  he  experiences  in  extending  his 
limbs,  cramped  by  the  narrow  dimensions  of  his  cradle. 

c* 


THE    WAV    TO    DO    GOOD 


Enjoyment  of  another  kind. 


THE   VISIT. 


You  raise  him  in 
your  arms.  He  is  not 
heavy.  Disease  has 
diminished  his  weight, 
and  you  walk  to  and 
fro  across  the  room 
with  a  gentle  step, — 
his  head  reclining  upon 
your  shoulder.  The 
uneasy,  restless  expres- 
sion which  was  upon 
his  countenance  is 
gradually  changed  for 
one  of  peaceful  repose  ; 
until,  at  length,  lulled 
by  the  gentle  sound  of 
your  voice,  he  drops 

into  a  quiet  slumber.  You  may  walk  with  him  many,  many 
times  across  the  floor,  before  fatigue  will  counterbalance  the 
pleasure  you  will  receive,  in  watching  his  placid  and  happy 
look  reflected  in  the  glass  behind  you  when  you  turn. 

At  last  he  wakes,  and  you  gently  lay  him  down  into  his 
cradle  again.  You  read  him  a  hymn  expressive  of  resigna- 
tion to  God,  and  confidence  in  his  kind  protection.  Kneeling 
down  by  his  cradle  and  holding  his  hand  in  yours,  you  offer 
a  simple  prayer  in  his  behalf,  and  when  at  length  you  rise  to 
go  away,  you  see  in  his  countenance  and  feel  in  the  sponta- 
neous pressure  of  his  little  hand,  that  though  he  says  nothing, 
for  he  has  not  yet  learned  the  cold  forms  of  civility, — his 
heart  is  full  of  happiness  and  gratitude.  In  witnessing  it, 
and  in  recalling  the  scene  to  your  mind  in  your  cold  and 
stormy  walk  home,  you  will  experience  an  enjoyment  which 
I  can  not  describe,  but  which  all  who  have  experienced  it 
will  understand.  This  enjoyment  is,  however,  very  different 


MOTIVES.  59 

Happiness  secured  though  not  directly  sought. 


in  its  nature  from  the  solitary  happiness  you  would  have  felt 
at  your  own  fireside.  Which  kind,  now,  do  you  prefer? 

The  case  I  have  described  is,  it  is  true,  an  experiment  on 
a  very  small  scale.  The  good  done,  was  very  little, — it  was 
only  half  an  hour's  partial  relief  for  a  sick  child,  and  another 
half-hour's  happiness  for  him  afterward,  as  he  lies  in  silence 
and  solitude  in  his  cradle,  musing  on  the  kindness  of  his  vis- 
itor. This  is  indeed  doing  good  on  a  small  scale,  but  then 
«n  the  other  hand  it  is  making  but  a  small  effort.  It  shows 
the  better  perhaps  on  account  of  its  being  so  simple  a  case, 
the  point  to  be  illustrated,  namely,  that  you  may  take  two 
totally  different  modes  to  make  a  winter  evening  pass  pleas- 
antly ;  and  it  is  not  merely  a  difference  of  means  when  the 
end  is  the  same,  but  a  difference  in  the  very  end  and  object 
itself. 

"  But  is  not  the  end  sought  in  both  cases  our  own  happi- 
ness ?"  you  ask. 

No,  it  is  not.  And  this  leads  me  to  a  distinction, — a 
metaphysical  distinction,  which  every  one  who  wishes  to  do 
good  on  the  right  principles  ought  to  understand.  The  dis- 
tinction is  contained  summarily  in  the  following  propositions, 
and  I  wish  my  young  reader  would  pause  and  reflect  upon 
them,  until  their  meaning  is  distinctly  understood,  and  then 
he  will  be  prepared  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  remarks 
which  follow.  The  propositions  are  elementary, — the  very 
foundations  of  the  science  of  doing  good. 

1.  One  may  do  good  for  the  sake  of  the  credit  or  the  ad- 
vantage of  it ;  in  which  case  it  is  a  matter  of  policy. 

2.  He  may  do  good  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  of  it. 
Here  it  is  a  matter  of  feeling. 

3.  He  may  do  good  simply  for  the  sake  of  obeying  God, 
and  from  the  desire  to  have  the  good  done.     In  this  case  it  is 
a  matter  of  principle. 

1.  A  man  m*y  do  good  for  the  sake  of  the  credit  of  it ; 


60  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Various  motives ;  perhaps  not  wholly  wrong. 

and  this  is  the  secret  of  a  far  greater  proportion  of  the 
apparently  benevolent  effort  which  is  made  in  the  world, 
than  is  generally  supposed.  I  do  not  by  any  means  say  that 
it  is  wrong  for  a  man  to  desire  the  good  opinion  of  others, 
and  especially  to  wish  to  be  known  as  a  man  of  kind  feeling 
for  the  wants  and  sufferings  of  others,  his  fellow-men.  This 
is  probably  right.  The  degree,  the  extent,  to  which  this 
operates  upon  us  as  a  stimulus  to  effort,  is  the  main  point. 

There  are  various  ways  in  which  this  principle  may  op&- 
rate.  You  may  go  and  visit  the  sick,  and  carry  comforts  to 
the  poor,  and  be  very  active  and  bustling  in  your  efforts  to 
gather  Sabbath-school  scholars,  or  to  distribute  tracts,  or  to 
collect  contributions  for  charitable  purposes, — and  you  pass 
along  from  month  to  month,  imagining  that  your  motives  and 
feelings  are  all  right.  And  yet  if  you  were  at  any  time  to 
pause  and  reflect,  and  call  your  heart  thoroughly  to  account, 
you  would  find  that  your  real  stimulus  is  the  wish  to  be 
esteemed  by  all  your  Christian  acquaintances  as  an  ardent  and 
a  devoted  Christian,  or  an  active,  efficient,  successful  mem- 
ber or  manager  of  a  charitable  society.  Or  you  may  con- 
tribute money, — alas  !  how  much  is  so  contributed, — because 
you  know  it  will  be  expected  of  you.  The  box  or  the  paper 
comes  round,  and  you  can  not  easily  escape  it.  You  do  the 
good,  not  for  the  sake  of  having  the  good  done,  but  to  save 
your  own  credit.  Or,  to  take  another  case  still,  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  more  gross  in  its  nature, — you  may,  if  a  man  of 
business  and  wealth,  take  a  large  share  in  some  costly,  be- 
nevolent enterprise,  with  the  design  of  enlarging  your  influ- 
ence or  extending  your  business  by  the  effect  which  your 
share  in  the  transaction  will  produce  upon  the  minds  of  others. 
It  is  true  that  this  feeling  would  not  be  unmixed.  You  would 
look,  and  try  to  look,  as  much  as  possible  at  the  benevolent 
object  to  be  accomplished, — and  a  heart  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked,  will  attempt  to  persuade  you 


MOTIVES.  61 

Sentimental  feeling.  Illustration. 

that  this  is  your  sole,  or  at  least  your  principal  desirl.  But 
if  in  such  a  case  you  were  suddenly  laid  upon  a  dying  bed, 
and  could  look  upon  the  transaction  in  the  bright  spiritual 
light  which  the  vicinity  of  another  world  throws  upon  all 
human  actions  and  pursuits,  you  would  see  that  in  all  these 
cases  you  are  doing  good,  not  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  God  by 
doing  his  work, — but  to  promote  in  various  ways  your  own 
private  ends. 

Let  it  be  understood  that  we  do  not  say  that  this  would 
be  wrong — nor  do  we  say  it  would  be  right.  We  say  nothing 
about  it.  How  far,  and  into  what  fields,  a  just  and  proper 
policy  will  lead  a  man,  in  the  transaction  of  his  worldly 
affairs,  it  is  not  now  our  business  to  inquire.  The  subject 
which  we  are  considering  is  not  policy,  but  benevolence  ; — 
and  the  only  point  which  we  wish  here  to  carry,  is  inducing 
the  young  Christian,  in  commencing  his  course  of  religious 
action,  to  discriminate, — to  understand  distinctly  what  is 
benevolence  and  what  is  not ; — to  have  his  mental  and 
moral  powers  so  disciplined,  that  when  he  really  is  doing 
good  for  the  sake  of  the  credit  of  it,  he  may  distinctly 
know  it. 

2.  Doing  good  from  the  impulse  of  sentimental  feeling,  is 
regarded  among  men  as  of  a  higher  moral  rank  than  doing 
good  from  policy.  Though  after  all  it  might  perhaps  be  a 
little  difficult  to  assign  a  substantial  reason  for  the  distinc- 
tion. One  of  the  lowest  examples  of  doing  good  from  mere 
feeling,  is  where  we  make  effort  to  relieve  pain,  because  we 
can  not  bear  to  see  it.  A  wretched-looking  child,  with  bare 
feet  and  half  naked  bosom,  comes  to  our  door  in  a  cold  in- 
clement season  of  the  year.  He  comes,  it  may  be,  to  beg 
for  food  or  clothing.  We  should  perhaps  never  have  thought 
of  making' any  search  in  our  neighborhood  for  objects  of  suf- 
fering, but  when  such  an  object  obtrudes  itself  upon  us,  we 
can  not  bear  to  send  him  away  with  a  denial.  We  give  him 


62  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Another  case.  Principle.  Nature  of  it. 

food  or  Clothing,  or  perhaps  money  ;  but  our  chief  inducement 
for  doing  it  is  to  relieve  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  in  our  own 
minds.  We  do  not  say  that  this  is  wrong.  All  we  say  is, 
that  it  is  not  acting  from  principle.  It  may  be  considered  a 
moral  excellence  that  the  mind  is  so  constituted  in  respect  to 
its  powers  and  to  its  sympathy  with  others,  that  it  can  not 
be  happy  itself  while  an  object  of  misery  is  near,  and  the 
happiness  of  knowing  that  all  around  us  are  happy,  may  be 
a  kind  of  enjoyment  which  it  is  very  proper  for  us  to  seek. 
But  still  this  is  doing  good  from  feeling,  not  from  principle. 

Feeling  will  often  prompt  a  benevolent  man  to  make 
efforts  to  promote  positive  enjoyment,  as  well  as  to  relieve 
mere  suffering  which  forces  itself  upon  the  notice.  You 
"get  interested,"  as  the  phrase  is,  in  some  unhappy  widow, 
perhaps,  and  her  children, — a  case  of  destitution  and  suffer- 
ing, with  which  you  have  become  casually  acquainted.  The 
circumstances  of  her  case  are  such,  perhaps,  as  at  first  to 
make  a  strong  appeal  to  your  feelings,  and  after  beginning 
to  act  in  her  behalf,  you  are  led  on  from  step  to  step  by  the 
pleasure  of  doing  good,  till  you  have  found  her  regular  em- 
ployment, and  relieved  all  her  wants,  and  provided  for  the 
comfort  and  proper  education  of  her  children.  All  this  may 
be  right ;  but  it  may  be  simply  feeling,  which  has  prompted 
it.  There  may  have  been  no  steady  principle  of  benevolence 
through  the  whole. 

3.  Doing  good  from  principle.  There  is  a  far  wider  dif- 
ference between  the  benevolence  of  principle,  and  the  benev- 
olence of  feeling,  than  young  Christians  who  have  not  fully 
considered  the  subject  are  aware  of.  Principle  looks  first  to 
God.  She  sees  him  engaged  in  the  work  of  promoting  uni- 
versal holiness  and  happiness.  Not  universal  holiness,  mere- 
ly as  a  means  of  happiness,  but  holiness  and  happiness ; — 
for  moral  excellence  is  in  itself  a  good,  independently  of  any 
enjoyment  which  may  result  from  it.  So  that  Principle  has 


MOTIVES.  63 

Policy.  An  allegory. 

two  distinct  and  independent,  though  closely  connected  ob- 
jects, while  Feeling  has  but  one.  Principle  decides  deliber- 
atlely  to  engage  as  a  co-operator  tvith  God,  in  promoting  the 
prosperity  of  his  kingdom  ; — which  kingdom  is  the  prevalence 
of  perfect  holiness  and  universal  enjoyment.  She  does  not 
then  rush  heedlessly  into  the  field  and  seize  hold  of  the  first 
little  object  which  comes  in  her  way.  She  acts  upon  a  plan. 
She  surveys  the  field.  She  considers  what  means  and  re- 
sources she  now  has,  and  what  she  may,  by  proper  effort, 
bring  within  her  reach ;  and  then  aims  at  acting  in  such  a 
manner  as  shall  in  the  end  promote,  in  the  highest  and  best 
way,  the  designs  of  God.  She  feels,  too,  that  in  these  labors 
she  is  not  alone.  She  is  not  a  principal.  She  is  endeavor- 
ing to  execute  the  plans  of  a  superior,  and  she  endeavors  to 
act,  not  as  her  own  impulses  might  prompt,  but  as  the  na- 
ture and  character  of  his  great  designs  require. 

Doing  good  from  motives  .of  policy,  the  first  of  the  induce- 
ments which  we  have  considered,  is  not  likely  to  find  much 
favor  with  human  hearts,  if  it  can  be  simply  deprived  of  its 
disguise.  But  the  distinction  between  feeling  and  principle 
demands  more  careful  attention.  The  two  may  sometimes 
co-operate.  In  fact,  they  do  very  well  together,  but  Feeling 
can  not  be  trusted  alone  with  the  work  of  benevolence.  She 
will  aid,  she  will  inspirit  Principle,  and  enable  her  to  do  her 
work  better  and  more  pleasantly,  but  she  can  not  be  trusted 
alone. 

We  can,  perhaps,  more  clearly  show  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  benevolence  of  Principle  and  of  Feeling,  by  an 
allegorical  illustration.  Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  one  eve- 
ning, Feeling  and  Principle  were  walking  in  a  road,  upon 
the  outskirts  of  a  country  town.  They  had  been  to  attend 
an  evening  service  in  a  school-house,  half  a  mile  from  their 
homes.  It  was  a  cold  winter  evening,  and  as  they  passed 
by  the  door  of  a  small  cabin,  with  boarded  windows  and 


64  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

A  scene  in  the  evening.  Conversation. 

broken  roof,  they  saw  a  child  sitting  at  the  door,  weeping 
and  sobbing  bitterly. 

Feeling  looked  anxious  and  concerned. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  little  fellow?"  said .  Principle, 
with  a  pleasant  countenance. 

The  boy  sobbed  on. 

"  What  a  house,"  said  Feeling,  "  for  human  beings  to  live 
in.  But  I  do  not  think  any  thing  serious  is  the  matter.  Let 
us  go  on." 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  boy?"  said  Principle  again, 
kindly.  "Can  you  not  tell  us  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"My  father  is  sick,"  said  the  boy,  "and  I  don't  know 
what  is  the  matter  with  him." 

"  Hark,"  said  Feeling. 

They  listened,  and  heard  the  sounds  of  moaning  and  mut- 
tering within  the  house. 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  said  Feeling,  pulling  upon  Principle's 
arm,  "  and  we  will  send  somebody  to  see  what  is  the  matter." 

"  We  had  better  go  and  see  ourselves,"  said  Principle  to 
her  companion. 

Feeling  shrunk  back  from  the  proposal,  and  Principle  her- 
self, with  female  timidity,  paused  a  moment,  from  an  unde- 
fined sense  of  danger. 

"  There  can  be  no  real  danger,"  thought  she.  "  Besides, 
if  there  is,  my  Savior  exposed  himself  to  danger  in  doing 
good.  Why  should  not  I  ?  Savior,"  she  whispered,  "  aid 
and  guide  me." 

"  Where  is  your  mother,  my  boy,"  said  she. 

"  She  is  in  there,"  said  the  boy,  "  trying  to  take  care  of  him." 

"Oh,  come,"  said  Feeling,  "let  us  go.  Here,  my  boy, 
here  is  some  money  for  you  to  carry  to  your  mother."  Saying 
this,  she  tossed  down  some  change  by  his  side.  The  boy 
was  wiping  his  eyes,  and  did  not  notice  it.  He  looked  up 
anxiously  into  Principle's  face,  and  said, 


MOTIVES.  65 

A  wretched  fireside.  Effect  of  sympathy. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  and  see  my  mother." 

Principle  advanced  toward  the  door,  and  Feeling,  afraid 
to  stay  out,  or  to  go  home  alone,  followed. 

They  walked  in.  Lying  upon  a  bed  of  straw,  and  covered 
with  miserable  and  tattered  blankets,  was  a  sick  man,  moan- 
ing and  muttering  and  snatching  at  the  bed-clothes  with  his 
fingers.  He  was  evidently  not  sane. 

His  wife  was  sitting  on  the  end  of  a  bench,  by  the  chim- 
ney corner,  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her  face  upon 
her  hands.  As  her  visitors  entered,  she  looked  up  to  them, 
the  very  picture  of  wretchedness  and  despair.  Principle  was 
glad,  but  Feeling  was  sorry,  that  they  had  come. 

Feeling  began  to  talk  to  some  small  children,  who  were 
shivering  over  the  embers  upon  the  hearth,  and  Principle 
accosted  the  mother.  They  both  learned  soon  the  true  state 
of  the  case.  It  was  a  case  of  common  misery,  resulting  from 
the  common  cause.  Feeling  was  overwhelmed  with  painful 
emotion  at  witnessing  such  suffering.  Principle  began  to 
think  what  could  be  done  to  relieve  it,  and  to  prevent  its 
return. 

"  Let  us  give  her  some  money  to  send  and  buy  some  wood, 
and  some  bread,"  whispered  Feeling,  "  and  go  away  ;  I  can 
not  bear  to  stay." 

"  She  wants  kind  words  and  sympathy,  more  than  food  and 
fuel,  for  present  relief,"  said  Principle,  "  let  us  sit  with  her  a 
little  while." 

The  poor  sufferer  was  cheered  and  encouraged  by  their 
presence.  A  little  hope  broke  in.  Her  strength  revived 
under  the  influence  of  a  cordial  more  powerful  than  any 
medicated  beverage  ;  and  when,  after  half  an  hour,  they 
went  away  promising  future  relief,  the  spirits  and  strength 
of  the  wretched  wife  and  mother  had  been  a  little  restored. 
She  had  smoothed  her  husband's  wretched  couch,  and  quieted 
her  crying  children,  and  shut  her  doors,  and  was  preparing 


66  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Feeling  and  principle  contrasted.  ^  Feeling  unsteady ;  fickle. 

to  enjoy  the  relief  when  it  should  come.  In  a  word,  she  had 
been  revived  from  the  stupor  of  despair.  As  they  walked 
away,  Feeling  said,  it  was  a  most  heart-rending  scene,  and 
that  she  should  not  forget  it  as  long  as  she  lived.  Principle 
said  nothing,  hut  guided  the  way  to  a  house  where  they 
found  one  whom  they  could  employ  to  carry  food  and  fuel 
to  the  cabin,  and  take  care  of  the  sick  man,  while  the  wife 
and  her  children  should  sleep.  They  then  returned  home 
Feeling  retired  to  rest,  shuddering  lest  the  terrible  scene 
should  haunt  her  in  her  dreams,  and  saying  that  she  would 
not  witness  such  a  scene  again,  for  all  the  world.  Principle 
kneeled  down  at  her  bedside  with  a  mind  at  peace.  She 
commended  the  sufferers  to  God's  care,  and  prayed  that  her 
Savior  would  give  her  every  day  some  such  work  to  do  for 
him. 

Such,  in  a  very  simple  case,  is  the  difference  between 
Feeling  and  Principle.  The  one  obeys  God.  The  other 
obeys  her  own  impulses,  and  relieves  misery  because  she 
can  not  bear  to  see  it.  As  a  consequence  of  this  difference 
in  the  very  nature  of  their  benevolence,  many  results  follow 
in  respect  to  the  character  of  their  efforts. 

1.  Feeling  is  unsteady.     Acting  from  impulse  merely,  it 
is  plain  that  she  will  not  act  excepting  when  circumstances 
occur  to  awaken  the  impulse.     She  therefore  can  not  be 
depended  upon.     Her  stimulus  is  from  without.     It  arises 
from  external  objects  acting  upon  her,  and  consequently  her 
benevolence  rises  and  falls  as  external  circumstances  vary. 
The   stimulus  of  Principle  is  from  within.     It  is   a  heart 
reconciled   to  God,   and   consequently  united   to   him,   and 
desiring  to  carry  forward    his  plans.      Consequently  when 
there  is  no  work  actually  before  her,  she  goes  forth  of  her 
own  accord  and  seeks  work.     She  is  consequently  steady. 

2.  Feeling  will  not  persevere.     When  she  sees  suffering, 
ghe  feels  uneasy,  and  to  remove  this  uneasiness,  she  makes 


MOTIVES.  67 

Feeling  inconsiderate.  Deficiences  of  mere  feeling. 

benevolent  effort.  But  there  are  two  ways  of  removing  it. 
She  will  cease  to  feel  uneasiness  not  only  when  the  suffer- 
ing is  relieved,  but  also  when  she  becomes  accustomed  to 
witnessing  it.  She  feeds  a  starving  child,  not  because  she 
wishes  the  child  to  be  happy,  but  because  she  can  not  bear 
to  see  him  wretched.  Now,  as  soon  as  she  becomes  accus- 
tomed to  see  wretchedness,  she  can  bear  it  easily  enough ; 
and  therefore  she  can  not  go  on  with  any  long  course  of 
benevolent  effort.  For  before  long  she  becomes  accustomed 
to  the  suffering, — it  ceases  to  affect  her, — and  then  her 
whole  impulse,  which  is  her  whole  motive,  is  gone. 

3.  Feeling  is  inconsiderate.     What  she  wishes  is  not  to 
do  good,  but  to  relieve  her  own  wounded  sensibilities.     She 
will  give  a  wretched  object  money  at  the  door,  though  she 
might  know  that  he  uses  money  principally  as  the  means  of 
procuring  that  which  is  the  chief  cause  of  his  wretchedness. 
That  is,  however,  of  no  consequence  to  her,   for  the  new 
misery  she  makes  will  be  out  of  her  sight,  and  her  purpose 
is  answered  equally  well,  whether  the  misery  is  relieved,  or 
only  removed  from  view.     Therefore,  she  is  inconsiderate, — 
acting  with  good  intentions, — but  often  increasing  the  evil 
that  she  intended  to  remedy. 

4.  Feeling  aims  only  at  relieving  palpable  wretchedness. 
She  might,  indeed,  if  she  was  wise,  aim  at  promoting  general 
happiness  on  an  enlarged  plan  ;  for  her  own  enjoyment  would 
be  most  highly  promoted  by  this.     But  she  is  not  generally 
very  wise  ;  and  while  Principle  forms  plans,  and  makes  sys- 
tematic efforts  to  promote  the  general  enjoyment,  Feeling 
continues  in  a  state  of  moral  inaction  in  respect  to  the  work 
of  doing  good,  unless  there  is  some  specific  and  palpable 
suffering  to  be  relieved. 

5.  And  once  more,  Feeling    does  not  aim   at  promoting 
holiness  or  diminishing  sin,  on  their  own  account.     Principle 
considers  sin  an  evil,  and  holiness  or  moral  excellence  a  good, 


68  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Principle.  Principle  persevering ;  systematic. 

in  themselves,  on  their  own  account,  and  independently  of 
their  connection  with  enjoyment  and  suffering.  She  would 
rather  have  all  men  grateful  and  obedient  to  God,  and  united 
to  one  another,  even  if  they  were  to  gain  nothing  by  it  in  re- 
spect to  happiness.  Feeling  does  not  take  this  view  of  the 
subject.  Nothing  affects  her  but  the  sight  or  the  tale  of 
woe.  If  you  can  show  her  that  sin  is  the  cause  of  some 
suffering  which  she  is  attempting  to  relieve,  she  will  perhaps 
take  an  interest  in  endeavoring  to  remove  it,  as  a  means  to 
the  accomplishment  of  an  end  ;  but  in  respect  to  the  univer- 
sal reign  of  love  to  God  and  love  to  man,  on  account  of  the 
intrinsic  excellence  of  love,  she  feels  no  interest.  She  does 
not  perceive  this  moral  excellence ;  and  she  may  be  herself 
entirely  destitute  of  this  love. 

In  all  these  respects,  and  in  many  more,  analogous  to 
them,  Principle  is  very  different  from  Feeling. 

1.  She  is  steady  and  persevering.     She  has  in  mind,  one 
great  object,  the  universal  establishment  of  the  kingdom  of 
God.     This  is  what  she  lives  for,  and  she  is  steadily  pressing 
on  in  the  accomplishment  of  her  work.     When  she  attempts 
to  do  good  in  any  particular  case,  it  is  not  to  relieve  herself 
from  pained  sensibilities,  but  to  promote  the  great  cause ; 
and  when,  accordingly,  the  acuteness  of  her  feelings  have 
been  blunted  by  time  and  use,  she  goes  on  more  vigorously 
and  with   more   energy, — not    less.     Her   impulse   is   from 
within.     It  is  a  deliberate,  a  fixed  and  a  settled  desire  to 
please  God,  to  co-operate  in  his  plans,  and  to  promote  human 
happiness.     This  is  a  steady  principle  which  leads  her  to  seek 
work, — not  merely  to  do  what  is  obtruded  upon  her. 

2.  Principle  acts  upon  a  plan.     She  makes  it  a  part  of  her 
business  to  look  all  around  her,  and  see  in  what  ways  and  how 
extensively  she  can  have  any  influence  on  the  character  and 
happiness  of  human  beings.     Then  she  considers  what  ob- 
jects ought  to  be  aimed  at,  and  what  is  their  comparative 


MOTIVES.  69 


Principle  a  co-operator  with  God.  Analysis  of  our  benevolent  acte. 

value,  and  how  long  life  may  be  expected  to  endure.  With 
all  these  elements  in  view,  she  forms  wise  and  systematic 
plans,  extending  as  far  as  her  influence  can  be  made  to  extend. 
In  a  word,  she  feels  that  she  has  a  great  work  to  do,  and  en- 
deavors to  make  arrangements  for  doing  it  systematically  and 
thoroughly. 

3.  Principle  aims,  too,  as  I  have  before  intimated,  at  pro- 
moting goodness  as  well  as  happiness.     She  looks  upon  men 
as  moral  beings,  not  merely  sentient  beings,  and  aims  at  pro- 
moting their  moral  excellence  as  well  as  their  enjoyment. 
In  fact,  the  former  attracts   far  the  greater  portion  of  her 
regard,  for  it  is  not  only  a  good  in  itself,  but  it  is  the  only 
sure  foundation  of  happiness. 

4.  And  once  more,  Principle  engages  in  her  work  as  a  child 
of  God,  and  a  co-operater  with  him.     She  feels  at  all  times, 
therefore,  a  sense  of  filial  dependence.     She  puts  forth  her 
hand  to  be  led,  and  goes  wherever  her  Master  calls.     She 
reports  regularly  to  him,  too,  acting  solely  as  his  obedient 
and  dutiful  child. 

The  reader  will  thus,  I  hope,  clearly  understand  the  dis- 
tinction between  policy,  feeling,  and  principle,  as  stimulus 
to  effort  in  doing  good.  The  inquiry  will  naturally  arise, 
— at  least  it  ought  to  arise  with  each  one,  what  is  the 
character  of  his  own  benevolent  effort.  We  shall  all  find 
that  these  motives  are  mixed  in  our  hearts,  and  by  a  care- 
ful self-examination,  we  shall  probably  perceive  that  policy 
has  more  influence  than  either  of  the  others.  I  do  not 
mean  by  policy,  a  deliberate  intention  to  pretend  to  be  be 
nevolent  for  the  purpose  of  accomplishing  a  sinister  design , 
I  mean,  doing  good,  with  some  real  interest  in  it,  but 
where  the  paramount  inducement,  after  all,  is  the  light  in 
which  the  affair  will  be  viewed  by  others.  This  may  not 
be  always  wrong,  as  we  have  before  remarked.  A  man 
ought  not  to  be  indifferent  entirely  to  his  own  reputation. 


70  THE   WAY    TO   DO   GOOD. 

Principle  the  only  stable  basis.  Imagination. 

The  favorable  regard  of  the  wise  and  good,  every  one 
should  desire,  and  it  is  right  to  take  pleasure  in  the  sense  of 
its  possession ;  but  there  are  probably  very  few  who  would 
not  be  surprised,  if  they  were  to  see  their  good  deeds  honestly 
analyzed,  to  find  how  large  a  portion  of  the  inducement 
in  nearly  all  of  them,  was  a  wish  to  be  seen  of  men.  To 
discriminate  between  the  benevolence  of  feeling  and  that 
of  principle,  requires  still  greater  care.  The  distinction  is 
not  exactly  one  between  right  and  wrong,  for  to  be  influenced 
by  feeling,  in  our  efforts,  is  certainly  not  wrong.  We  ought 
to  feel  deep  compassion  for  the  sufferings  of  others,  and  a 
great  personal  pleasure  in  the  work  of  alleviating  them. 
But  principle  ought  to  be  the  great  basis  of  all  our  efforts 
at  doing  good.  It  is  the  only  stable  basis, — and  it  is  the 
only  one  which  in  any  degree  enables  us  to  fulfill  our 
obligations  as  the  creatures  of  God.  Doing  good  on  prin- 
ciple, is  the  only  kind  of  benevolence  which  is  pleasing  to 
him. 

If  we  wish  to  know  which  of  these  motives  control  us, 
we  must  pause  when  we  are  about  to  make  some  effort  to 
do  good,  and  allow  our  thoughts  to  go  freely  forward,  and 
see  what  is  the  object  on  which  they  will  rest,  as  the  end 
to  be  secured.  When,  for  example,  you  are  making  efforts 
to  prepare  yourself  well,  for  duties  as  teacher  of  a  class  in 
the  Sunday-school,  what  is  it,  that  your  heart  rests  upon  as 
the  object  you  are  pursuing  in  it  ?  Your  imagination  goes 
forward,  beyond  your  present  preparation  ;  now  follow  her  ; 
see  where  she  goes ;  what  picture  does  she  form  ?  Does 
she  exhibit  to  your  eye,  the  beautiful  appearance  of  a  full 
and  an  attentive  class,  to  be  noticed  by  the  other  teachers, 
or  the  superintendent,  or  by  some  individual  friend,  whose 
good  opinion  you  particularly  desire  ?  Does  she  whisper  to 
you  the  praises  of  your  fidelity,  and  your  success,  or  does 
she  warn  you  of  the  reproof,  or  the  censure,  secret  or  open, 


MOTIVES.  71 

The  way  to  test  the  real  motives. 

which  you  must  expect  if  you  are  unfaithful  ?  Or  does  she 
on  the  other  hand,  lead  you  to  the  hearts  of  the  children, 
and  show  you  renewed,  sanctified  affections  there  ?  Does 
she  picture  to  you  their  future  lives,  purified  from  sin,  and 
lead  you  to  anticipate  through  them,  the  extension  of  the 
Redeemer's  kingdom  ? 

So  when  a  friend  calls  upon  you,  to  ask  your  subscription 
to  a  charity, — to  relieve  distress  for  example, — and  you  sit 
listening  to  the  story,  and  determined  to  add  your  name  to 
the  list, — what  is  it  that  your  imagination  reposes  upon  at 
the  instant  of  decision  ?  The  satisfaction  of  the  applicant  at 
finding  you  ready  to  aid,  or  the  sight  of  your  name  by  those 
to  whom  the  paper  is  to  be  borne,  or  relief  from  the  pain 
awakened  by  the  sad  details  of  the  story  ?  Or,  is  it  the 
pleasure  of  obeying  God,  and  aiding  in  doing  his  work? 
What  is  it  in  such  cases,  that  your  mind  rests  upon  at  the 
moment  of  decision  ?  Recall  a  few  such  cages  to  mind,  and 
give  the  reins  to  your  heart,  and  see  where  it  will  go.  If 
you  take  off  all  restraint,  and  let  it  move  freely,  it  will  run 
to  its  own  end,  and  there  repose  itself  upon  the  object  which 
it  is  really  seeking. 

So  far  as  principle  may  control  you  in  your  efforts  to  do 
good,  it  will  tend  to  identify  you  in  heart  and  feeling,  and  in 
plans,  with  God,  and  lead  you  to  act  in  imitation  of  his  ex- 
ample, and  as  a  laborer  by  his  side.  Let%us  look  then  at  the 
benevolence  of  the  Deity,  for  this  is  the  benevolence  which 
you  are  to  cherish.  This  you  are  to  imitate, — to  co-operate 
with.  You  can  not,  therefore,  study  it  too  closely.  Let  us 
devote,  then,  the  remaining  paragraphs  of  the  chapter  to  a 
particular  consideration  of  the  character  which  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Deity  assumes. 

1.  It  would  seem  to  be  the  great  plan  and  the  great  em- 
ployment of  the  Deity,  to  fill  the  universe  with  sentient  ex- 


72 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Character  of  the  benevolence  of  God. 


istence,  and  to  provide  the  whole  mighty  mass  with  the 
means  of  happiness  in  the  greatest  possible  variety.  There 
is,  it  is  true,  a  vast  amount  of  suffering  visible  around  us, 
but  far  the  greater  portion  of  it  we  can  ourselves  directly 
trace  to  sin,  and  the  Bible  assures  us  that  it  all  comes  directly 
or  indirectly  from  this  one  poisonous  fountain.  The  arrange- 
ments which  God  has  made  tend  all  to  happiness.  It  is  only 
our  perversions  of  them,  and  our  violations  of  his  laws,  that 
tend  to  misery. 

Take  your  stand  upon  the  sea-shore,  on  a  summer  morn- 
ing, and  observe  the  expression  of  the  face  of  nature.  It  is, 
as  it  were,  the  expression  of  the  cout  tenance  of  God.  Ob- 
serve the  serene  sky, — the  mild  balmy  air,  the  smooth  ex- 
panse of  water  before  you,  reflecting  as  in  a  polished  mirror, 
every  rocky  crag,  and  smooth  island,  and  sandy  shore,  and 
even  every  spar  and  rope  of  the  vessel  which  seems  to  sleep 


THE   SEA-SHORE. 


MOTIVES.  73 

Plans  to  promote  happiness.  Simple  sources  of  pleasure. 

upon  its  bosom.  Enveloping  you  all  around,  is  the  thin 
elastic  atmosphere, — balanced  in  a  most  delicate  equilibrium, 
— so  delicate,  that  that  workman's  axe  which  you  see  regu 
larly  descending  upon  the  wood  on  that  distant  point  of  land, 
sends  a  tremulous  vibration  through  the  transparent  fluid, 
for  a  mile  all  around.  Yes,  every  ripple  upon  the  shore, 
every  song  of  the  locust,  even  the  hum  of  the  distant  town 
sends  its  own  peculiar  quivering  through  the  whole,  and  each 
brings  distinctly  and  undisturbed  to  your  ear,  its  own  correct 
report.  At  your  feet,  the  clear  waters  bathe  the  rocks  and 
pebbles  of  the  shore,  and  aquatic  animals  creep  over  them, 
or  swim  in  the  depths  below,  enjoying  sensations  of  pleasure 
which  God  has  carefully  provided  for  every  one.  He  who 
has  a  soul  capable  of  understanding  it,  will  sit  for  hours  upon 
the  green  bank,  at  a  time  like  this,  receiving  an  indescribable 
pleasure  from  the  general  expression  of  such  a  scene.  It  is 
an  expression  of  divine  benevolence,  beamiifg  from  the  works 
of  God,  which  it  is  strange  that  human  beings  can  ever  fail 
to  understand  and  love. 

How  many  thousand  ingenious  contrivances,  has  God 
planned  and  executed  to  make  men  happy.  The  catalogue 
is  endless,  of  simple  pleasures,  each  distinct  from  all  the  rest, 
which  the  human  being  has  the  opportunity  to  enjoy.  In 
fact,  if  man  acts  on  proper  principles,  and  according  to  the 
intentions  of  the  Creator,  every  thing  is  a  source  of  happiness 
to  him.  Employment  is  pleasant,  and  rest  is  pleasant.  Il 
is  pleasant  to  begin  a  new  work  ;  it  is  pleasant  to  finish  one, 
begun.  Morning  is  delightful, — with  its  freshness,  its  ani- 
mation, its  calls  and  its  opportunities  for  exertion.  Evening 
is  delightful  too,  with  its  quiet,  its  stillness,  its  repose.  The 
summer's  sun  gladdens  the  heart, — and  so  does  the  refresh- 
ing rain,  when  we  see  the  dry  ground  drinking  it  in,  as  if  it 
enjoyed  the  extinguishment  of  its  thirst ; — and  so  does  the 

wintry  storm,  when  it  howls  through  the  trees,  and  fills  up 
D 


74  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  snow.  Running  water. 

every  road  and  path,  and  obscures  the  window,  and  spreads 
over  fields,  and  plains,  its  mantle  of  snow.  Each  comes  with 
its  own  peculiar  voice  to  the  heart,  and  fills  it  with  peaceful 
happiness. 

All  these  contrivances  are  plain  and  obvious,  and  yet  they 
are  no  less  contrivances — artfully  planned,  to  increase  human 
enjoyment.  There  must  have  been  a  peculiar  and  skillful 
workmanship,  in  constructing  the  moral  mechanism  of  the 
human  heart,  to  secure  so  many  different  kinds  of  happiness, 
by  means  of  external  objects,  so  numerous,  and  so  diversified. 
You  can  give  no  reason  why  the  heart  of  a  child  is  filled  with 
such  joyous  glee,  when  the  first  snow-flakes  descend.  There 
is  no  very  special  beauty  in  the  sight, — and  there  are  no  very 
well-defined  hopes  of  slides  or  rides,  to  awaken  such  joy.  At 
fifty,  the  gladness  is  not  expressed  so  unequivocally,  but  yet 
when  the  gravest  philosopher  rides  through  a  wood  whose 
boughs  are  loaded  with  the  snow,  and  whose  tops  bend  over 
with  the  burden  ; — and  looks  upon  the  footsteps  of  the  rabbit 
who  has  leaped  along  over  the  ground, — he  feels  the  same 
pleasure,  though  he  indicates  it,  by  riding  on  in  silent  mus- 
ing, instead  of  uttering  exclamations  of  delight.  Can  you 
explain  this  pleasure  ?  Is  there  any  describable  pleasure  in 
a  great  expanse  of  white  ?  Is  the  form  of  the  trees,  or  the 
beauty  of  its  foliage  improved  by  the  snowy  mantle  ?  No. 
The  explanation  is,  that  God,  who  formed  the  laws  of  nature, 
formed  also  the  human  heart,  and  has  so  adapted  the  one  to 
the  other,  as  to  promote  in  every  variety  of  mode,  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  beings  he  has  made. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  kinds  of  enjoyment,  which  God  has 
thus  opened  to  us  everywhere.  They  are  too  numerous  to 
be  named,  and  no  intellectual  philosopher  has  ever  under- 
taken the  hopeless  task  of  arranging  them.  Who, — to  name 
one  other  example, — who,  when  walking  on  the  banks  of  a 
brook,  at  a  time  when  business  or  cares  did  not  press  him  on, 


MOTIVES.  75 

Emotions  awakened  by  them.  Various  sources  of  enjoyment. 

has  not  stopped  to  gaze  a  moment  upon  the  running  water, 
as  it  rippled  over  the  smooth  yellow  sands.  That  quivering 
picture  on  the  retina  of  the  eye  gives  delight,  and  the  passing 
traveler  is  arrested  and  stands  still,  and  keeps  his  eye  fixed 
upon  the  spot,  that  the  retina  may  enjoy  it.  And  who  can 
define,  or  explain,  or  classify,  or  name  the  pleasant  feeling  ? 
There  is  but  one  explanation.  God,  delighting  in  contrivances 
for  promoting  enjoyment,  has  formed  the  brook,  the  retina, 
and  the  feeling  heart  affected  by  it,  in  such  a  way  that  en- 
joyment shall  be  developed,  when  they  come  into  combina- 
tion. It  is  so,  as  I  have  said,  in  a  thousand  other  cases,  and 
man,  if  he  would  keep  his  heart  free  from  moral  pollutions 
which  destroy  the  peace,  and  disturb  and  poison  every  source 
of  happiness,  would  find  all  nature  continually  communicat- 
ing to  him,  through  one  sense  and  another,  feelings  of  pure 
and  rational  happiness. 

Still  all  this  is  happiness  of  the  lowest  kind.  It  is  true, 
indeed,  that  these  feelings  may  be  so  mingled  and  combined 
with  the  higher  moral  feelings,  as  to  partake  in  some  degree 
of  their  nature  ;  still,  in  itself,  this  is  happiness  of  the  lowest 
kind  ;  but  yet  it  is  happiness  which  God  has  made  distinct 
and  expensive  arrangements  for  ;  and  these  arrangements, 
therefore,  clearly  speak  his  love. 

The  number  and  variety  of  these  simple  pleasures,  which 
the  senses  may  be  the  means  of  affording,  is  immense,  and 
each  must  have  required  its  own  separate  mechanism  to  se- 
cure it.  I  refer  to  the  mechanism  of  the  heart,  not  of  the 
organ  of  sense  by  which  the  image  comes  in.  The  feeling, 
for  example,  which  is  awakened  by  the  sight  of  running 
water  is  totally  different,  not  .in  degree,  but  in  kind,  from 
that  which  we  experience  in  looking  upon  a  tender,  full, 
bursting  rose-bud  in  the  spring  ; — and  both  are  diverse  from 
the  emotion  awakened  by  looking  out  at  midnight  upon  a 
somber  moonlight  scene,  among  the  solitudes  of  the  moun- 


76  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Higher  pleasures.  Employment.  The  merchant's  counting-roonr 

tains.  The  same  mechanism  of  the  eye  answers  for  all,  but 
the  heart  must  have  its  own  peculiar  and  appropriate  sus- 
ceptibilities for  each.  And  so  with  all  the  other  thousand 
susceptibilities  of  enjoyment,  which  the  human  heart  pos- 
sesses. Each  is  the  result  of  a  special  arrangement  made  ex- 
pressly to  secure  it. 

And  yet  all  these,  numerous  as  they  are,  and  high  as  they 
would  be,  in  the  degree  of  enjoyment  they  would  procure  for 
us,  were  it  not  for  the  corroding  anxieties  of  sin,  belong  to 
the  lowest  class  of  human  enjoyments.  So  much  so,  that 
in  most  religious  treatises  upon  the  benevolence  of  God  they 
are  scarcely  named.  There  are  far  higher  and  nobler  plans 
which  God  has  formed  for  the  happiness  of  his  creatures. 

2.  Among  these  higher  plans,  is  the  pleasure  which  God 
has  annexed  to  the  faithful  and  proper  performance  of  the 
duties  of  life.  Each  kind  of  employment  seems  to  have  its 
own  peculiar  and  appropriate  pleasure.  One  man  is  stationed 
on  a  farm,  which  he  holds  as  a  little  empire  within  which 
he  is  almost  supreme,  and  the  whole  arrangement  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  connection  with  it  is  such  as  to  afford  him 
the  highest  happiness  in  administering  his  government  there. 
Another  is  a  merchant.  You  look  into  his  counting-room, 
and  see  nothing  there  but  a  high  desk  and  a  three-legged 
stool,  and  a  row  of  ponderous  ledgers.  "  What  a  place  for  a 
human  being  to  spend  his  days  in  !"  you  exclaim.  What  a 
place  ? — why,  in  that  cheerless-looking  room  there  are  found 
all  the  materials  for  the  highest  intellectual  and  moral  enjoy- 
ment. In  planning  those  voyages,  in  effecting  sales,  in  trans- 
ferring value  from  one  form  to  another,  in  inspecting  his  pe- 
riodical balance-sheet,  and  watching  his  losses  and  gains, 
and  examining  the  causes  which  affect  them, — in  all  these 
things  the  occupant  finds  continual  happiness,  and  returns 
day  after  day  to  his  work,  with  all  the  eager  interest  which 
a  child  feels  in  the  progress  of  a  game.  God  has  constructed 


MOTIVES.  77 

The  pleasure  of  invention  and  construction. 

the  human  heart  BO  that  the  work  of  transferring  and  ex- 
changing the  various  products  of  the  earth,  from  the  places 
where  they  grow  to  the  places  where  they  are  needed,  is  not 
a  drudgery, — a  hard,  unwelcome  toil, — hut  an  exhilarating, 
animating  game,  which  they  whose  duty  it  is  to  attend  to  it 
may  pursue  with  pleasure.  Let  it  be  observed  that  I  say  it 
may  he  pursued  with  pleasure.  For  men  may,  as  they  very 
often  do,  make  it  a  work  of  toil  and  misery.  They  may  be 
so  greedy  of  gain  as  to  be  always  on  the  point  of  encroaching 
upon  other  persons'  rights,  and  thus  always  be  in  contention  ; 
— or  they  may  go  so  far  beyond  the  bounds  of  sound  judg- 
ment as  to  be  harassed  with  continual  anxiety  and  care  ; — 
or  they  may  yield  to  fretfulness  and  vexation  upon  every  little 
disappointment  or  difficulty.  In  these  and  in  other  ways, 
they  make  the  work  which  God  intended  should  be  pleasant, 
one  of  anxiety,  toil,  and  suffering.  But  this  does  not  affect 
the  nature  of  his  plan. 

A  third  individual  is  a  mechanic,  and  God  has  so  formed 
his  mental  powers  that  the  work  of  invention  and  construc- 
tion is  a  positive  and  a  lasting  pleasure  to  him.  He  will  sit  in 
his  solitary  room  till  the  morning  dawns,  planning  the  details 
of  a  machine, — held  to  his  work  by  an  interest  which  God 
has  given  him  in  it ; — and  if  he  is  industrious,  and  system- 
atic, and  faithful,  he  will  find  day  after  day,  continued  and 
almost  unalloyed  happiness  in  managing  his  establishment, 
arranging  his  work,  and  in  seeing  one  useful  object  after  an- 
other accomplished  by  the  exercise  of  his  ingenuity  and  skill. 
Thus  God  is  not  a  taskmaster,  driving  us  to  our  duties  by 
the  force  of  suffering, — he  is  a  kind  and  benevolent  friend, 
giving  us  pleasant  employment  and  making  our  greatest  hap- 
piness to  consist  in  the  faithful  performance  of  it. 

It  is  so  with  all  the  employments  of  life.  There  may  be 
some  hours  of  fatigue,  and  now  and  then  a  crisis  demanding 
toil  of  a  character  that  we  shrink  from.  But  these  are  so 


78  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Higher  enjoyments  stilL  Lore. 

few,  as  only  to  brighten  by  the  contrast  what  would  be  the 
happiness  of  a  man's  ordinary  lot,  if  his  daily  duties  were 
performed  in  a  faithful  and  proper  manner.  For  we  are  not 
to  consider  what  is  the  actual  amount  of  enjoyment  obtained 
in  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  life,  but  what  would  be  the  actual 
amount  if  men  would  attend  to  these  pursuits  in  the  manner 
which  God  has  required ; — if  they  were  faithful,  industrious, 
moderate  in  their  wishes,  cautious  in  their  plans,  and  if  they 
felt  that  filial  confidence  in  him  which  would  enable  them  to 
cast  on  him  all  responsibility  and  care. 

3.  God  has  planned  human  happiness  of  a  still  higher  kind, 
by  making  the  heart  susceptible  of  love,  and  requiring  men 
to  exercise  love  toward  one  another.  This  union  of  heart  by 
which  he  meant  to  have  all  his  creatures  bound  together, 
would  give  rise  to  far  deeper  emotions  of  happiness  than  either 
of  those  already  named,  or  rather  it  would  mingle  with  and 
brighten  these.  How  much  greater  delight  will  two  children 
often  feel  in  the  friendship  of  one  another,  than  in  gazing  into 
the  beautiful  brook,  or  walking  upon  the  shore  ;  or  rather 
how  will  their  happiness  be  increased  tenfold  by  the  opportu- 
nity of  playing  by  the  brook,  or  rambling  upon  the  sea-shore 
together.  There  is  a  double  enjoyment  in  love, — the  pleas- 
ure of  feeling  affection,  and  the  pleasure  of  being  the  object 
of  it ;  it  is  hard  to  decide  which  is  the  greatest.  A  man  will 
sometimes  neglect  his  family  that  he  may  increase  a  little 
the  rapidity  with  which  his  fortune  accumulates.  The  game 
in  his  counting-room  interests  him  more  than  the  circle  at  his 
fireside  ; — but  he  makes  a  sad  mistake  to  barter  for  the  in- 
terest of  such  a  work  the  far  richer,  deeper  emotions  of  hap- 
piness, which  he  might  secure  by  loving  and  being  beloved. 
So  men  everywhere  are  eager  to  secure  their  own  rights  to 
the  uttermost  farthing,  and  consequently  live  in  a  constant 
scene  of  jealousy,  suspicion,  and  angry  disputes.  How  un- 
wisely they  judge  ; — for  the  sake  of  a  little  more  land,  or  a 


MOTIVES.  79 


Union.  The  institution  of  the  family.  Its  firm  foundations. 

little  greater  influence,  or  a  little  more  rapid  gain,  to  lose  the 
real,  substantial,  enduring  happiness  of  peace,  and  harmony, 
and  happy  union.  And  all  this  loss  is  in  consequence  of  a 
deviation  from  God's  plan.  His  wish  is  to  secure  for  us  all 
the  happiness  of  union.  He  has  planned  society  so  as  to  link 
men  together  in  a  thousand  ways, — and  that,  too,  by  links  so 
strong  and  so  intricately  fastened  that  we  can  not  loosen 
them.  He  intended  that  we  should  be  happy  together. 

See  how  he  has  grouped  men  in  families, — having  laid  the 
foundation  of  this  institution  so  deep  in  the  very  constitution 
of  man,  that  there  has  been  no  nation,  no  age, — scarcely  a 
single  savage  tribe,  that  has  not  been  drawn  to  the  result 
which  he  intended.  For  thousands  of  years  this  institution 
has  been  assailed  by  every  power  which  could  shake  it  by 
violence  from  without,  or  undermine  it  by  treachery  within. 
Lust  and  passion  have  risen  in  rebellion  against  it, — Atheism 
has  again  and  again  advanced  to  the  attack, — but  it  stands 
unmoved.  It  has  been  indebted  to  no  human  power  for  its 
defense.  It  has  needed  no  defense.  It  stands  on  the  firm, 
sure,  everlasting  foundations  which  God  has  made  for  it. 
Wars,  famine,  pestilence,  and  revolutions  have  swept  over 
the  face  of  society,  carrying  everywhere  confusion,  terror,  and 
distress  ; — time  has  undermined  and  destroyed  every  thing 
which  his  tooth  could  touch,  and  all  human  institutions  have 
thus  been  altered  and  destroyed  in  the  lapse  of  ages.  But 
the  Family  lives  on  :  it  stands  firm  and  unshaken.  It  finds 
its  way  wherever  human  beings  go,  it  survives  every  shock, 
and  rises  again  unharmed,  after  every  tempest  which  blows 
over  the  social  sky.  It  is  a  contrivance  for  human  happiness, 
and  God  has  laid  its  foundations  too  deep  and  strong  to  be 
removed. 

And  then,  too,  God  has  so  planned  the  human  heart,  and 
the  circumstances  in  which  we  find  ourselves  placed  in  this 
world,  that  men  must  live  together  in  social  communities. 


80  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 


God's  plans  for  preventing  sin. 


He  has  done  this  with  the  design  that  mutual  kindness,  aid 
and  affection  should  heighten  the  happiness  of  the  whole. 
These  feelings,  if  they  existed,  would  smooth  the  path,  and 
quiet  the  fears,  and  assuage  the  sorrows  of  every  man,  and 
more  than  double  every  earthly  enjoyment. 

4.  The  benevolence  of  God  shows  itself  most  conspicuously 
in  his  plans  for  preventing  the  commission  of  sin,  and  for 
stopping  the  progress  and  the  consequences  of  it,  when  it  is 
committed.  Temporary  suffering,  however  severe,  including 
all  the  varieties  of  physical  evil,  is  nothing  compared  with 
the  miseries  of  sin, — that  viper  whose  fangs  the  wretched 
sufferer  never  can  extract,  and  whose  wounds  never  heal. 
All  other  ills  human  fortitude  is  sufficient  to  bear.  There 
is  grief: — One  may  follow  to  the  grave  a  wife,  a  mother,  a 
husband,  a  sister,  a  child, — many  of  these  losses  may,  one 
after  another,  inflict  their  wounds  ;  but  there  is  a  strength 
in  the  human  heart  which  bears  itself  up  under  them  all. 
There  is  poverty  and  disappointment : — One  may  see  his 
hopes  blasted,  his  plans  destroyed,  and  all  the  ills  of  penury 
made  his  inevitable  portion,  for  the  remainder  of  his  days ; 
there  is  a  fortitude  which  can  bear  these  things.  There  is 
sickness  and  pain : — One  may  be  a  prey  to  disease,  whose 
intense  pangs  goad  the  sufferer  almost  to  distraction,  or 
whose  wearisome  confinement  knows  no  intermission  for 
years ; — there  is  many  a  patient  sufferer  to  be  found,  who 
can  bear  it  all  with  submission.  But  there  is  no  manliness, 
no  fortitude  in  the  human  spirit,  which  can  bear  it  up  under 
the  horrors  of  guilt, — past,  irrecoverably  past,  and  yet  rising 
in  all  its  vivid  coloring  to  the  soul  which  has  incurred  it, 
and  overwhelming  it  with  remorse  and  despair.  The  re- 
proaches of  a  conscience  once  thoroughly  aroused,  can  neither 
be  silenced  nor  borne.  They  come,  bringing  with  them  the 
frown  of  God.  They  bring  with  them  recollections  of  the 
past,  which  pierce  the  soul  with  anguish,  and  terrific  fore- 


MOTIVES.  81 

The  sufferings  of  sin  the  most  intolerable  and  incurable. 

bodings  as  to  the  future,  which  overwhelm  it  with  horror. 
No  human  spirit  can  sustain  its  energies,  under  such  a  bur- 
den. 

Compared  with  the  evil,  and  the  attendant  sufferings  of 
sin,  all  physical  ills  sink  into  utter  insignificance.  The  blind 
and  lame  wanderer,  without  house  or  home,  may  have  a 
quiet  conscience  and  a  firm  hope  of  happiness  in  heaven, 
which  will  take  away  the  sting  of  all  his  sorrows ;  while  the 
wealthy  lover  of  the  world  may  spend  his  days  in  misery, 
under  the  galling  yoke  which  he  has  brought  upon  himself 
by  leading  a  life  of  sin.  Who  is  it  that  is  driven  to  suicide, 
by  intensity  of  suffering  ?  Not  the  sick  man,  tortured  and 
worn  out  with  protracted  and  bodily  pain ; — not  the  half 
starved  or  half  frozen  Indian,  or  gipsy  ; — it  is  the  fraudulent 
debtor, — the  guilty  defaulter, — the  criminal  exposed.  Yes, 
guilt  is  the  fountain  of  real  suffering, — and  the  greatest  of 
all  the  displays  of  the  benevolence  of  God,  is,  his  great 
original  plan  and  his  present  efforts  to  atone  for  guilt  and 
wipe  it  away. 

And  besides, — as  we  shall  see  more  fully  as  we  proceed, 
sin  is  the  source  of  nearly  all  the  temporal  sufferings  of  man- 
kind, and  there  can  be  no  permanent  relief  from  suffering 
but  by  reclaiming  from  sin.  Go  for  instance  to  the  house 
of  a  profligate  and  abandoned  man,  and  when  you  see  the 
wretched  condition  of  his  desolate  and  suffering  family,  make 
a  kind  and  vigorous  effort  to  relieve  them.  Kindle  up  a 
blazing  fire  upon  the  dying  embers  over  which  you  found 
them  shivering.  Cover  them  with  comfortable  clothing,  and 
replenish,  with  a  bountiful  hand,  their  exhausted  stores. 
After  a  few  weeks,  return  and  visit  them  again.  The  fire 
has  long  since  burned  away,  and  the  miserable  cabin  is  as 
cold  as  before.  The  children  are  again  in  rags,  and  the 
mother  is  again  vainly  striving  to  bar  her  door  against  the 
devourer,  hunger. 

D* 


82 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Illustration. 


THE   REFORM. 


Suppose,  again,  that, 
dissatisfied  with  so  par- 
tial and  temporary  a 
relief,  you  make  a  sec- 
ond effort  of  a  different 
nature.  You  seek,  and 
by  the  blessing  of  God, 
you  reform  the  man. 
Return  again  at  the 
end  of  a  few  months, 
and  an  industrious  and 
frugal  hand  will  be 
extended  to  you  at  the 
door,  to  welcome  you 
to  a  happy  family,  and 
to  a  permanently  com- 
fortable home ;  and  you 

may  now  even  take  provisions  from  his  store,  and  fuel  from 
his  pile,  and  carry  relief  to  others  that  are  miserable. 

This  is  a  very  simple  case,  but  it  illustrates  an  universal 
principle  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  wise  and  effect- 
ual benevolence.  Bring  men  back  to  God  and  to  duty,  and 
their  happiness  is  safe.  Leave  them  in  sin,  and  you  can 
make  no  sensible  or  permanent  impression  upon  their  miseries. 
The  benevolence  of  God  is  accordingly  most  conspicuous  in 
his  plans  for  spreading  the  dominion  of  holiness  throughout 
his  empire, — and  especially  in  this  world,  in  his  efforts  to 
reclaim  mankind  from  their  sins. 

Such  is  God's  plan  for  promoting  human  happiness.  It 
aims  at  promoting  enjoyment  of  every  kind  and  in  every 
way.  It  is  of  a  cheerful,  happy  character,  too.  The  benev- 
olence which  we  often  see  exercised  by  men,  is  .somber,  stern 
and  gloomy, — looking  only  at  the  great,  serious  interests  of 
humanity,  and  perhaps  dwelling  too  exclusively  on  the  great 


MOTIVES.  83 

Character  of  the  divine  benevolence. 

futurity.  The  benevolence  of  God,  while  it  aims  first  at 
these  great  interests,  does  not  neglect  the  others.  It  takes 
a  cheerful  and  pleasant  view  of  the  present  condition  of  man, 
and  endeavors  to  make  him  happy  to-day,  as  well  as  to  pre- 
pare him  for  happiness  to-morrow.  It  decks  all  nature  in 
smiles,  and  arranges  those  thousand  influences  which  speak 
for  the  moment  to  the  heart,  and  give  it  a  transitory  happi- 
ness. God  gives  conscience  a  seat  in  the  human  soul,  speak- 
ing strongly  through  her,  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  a 
judgment  to  come,  that  he  may  make  men  happy  in  eternity; 
— he  also  adorns  their  present  home  with  a  thousand  beau- 
ties, and  arranges  a  countless  variety  of  agreeable  employ- 
ments for  them,  that  he  may  make  them  happy  here.  He 
clothes  the  earth  with  a  useful  vegetation  to  supply  the 
substantial  wants  of  the  creatures  he  has  formed ;  and  he 
also  brings  out  the  lovely  hues  of  the  flowers,  and  arranges 
all  the  delightful  influences  of  morning  and  evening,  that  he 
may  gratify  the  eye,  and  please  the  fancy.  He  does  not 
coldly  and  sternly  pursue  what  we  call  utility  alone.  He 
has  ornamented  his  whole  creation  most  richly,  to  give  us, 
together  with  the  substantial  supply  of  every  want,  the 
charms  of  elegance  and  refinement.  His  plan  is  thus  to 
communicate  to  our  souls  a  cheerful,  happy  influence,  to 
gladden  them  at  the  present  moment,  as  well  as  to  prepare 
them  for  substantial  happiness  to  come.  The  Christian, 
therefore,  who  wishes  to  do  good  on  principle,  and  to  be  the 
co-operator  with  God,  must  act  in  a  similar  way.  He  must 
come  and  give  himself  up  to  his  Maker's  service,  and  aim 
at  carrying  out  all  his  plans.  He  must  first  of  all  strive  to 
bring  men  back  to  their  allegiance  to  him,  since  without  this 
every  other  plan  for  promoting  human  happiness  must  fail. 
Then  he  must  do  all  that  he  can  to  promote  the  present 
enjoyment  of  all  God's  creatures,  in  every  way  in  his  power. 
He  must  love  happiness  on  a  small  scale,  as  well  as  on  a 


84  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Co-operation  with  God. 

large  scale, — he  must  wish  that  all  around  him  should  enjoy 
themselves  now,  as  well  as  a  thousand  years  hence,  and  a 
thousand  years  hence,  as  well  as  now.  This  benevolence 
must  reign  so  constantly  in  the  heart,  as  to  give  an  habitual 
character  to  the  feelings,  and  expression  to  the  countenance, 
and  tone  to  the  voice,  so  that  the  presence  and  the  influence 
of  the  co-operator  with  God,  may  speak  in  the  same  language 
to  all  around  him,  which  the  expression  of  the  face  of  natur^ 
so  plainly  conveys  to  the  heart  that  is  reconciled  and  forgiven, 
and  feels  that  its  Maker  is  really  its  Friend. 

This,  then,  my  reader,  is  the  work  which  you  must  do,  if 
you  wish  to  co-operate  with  God.  These  are  the  objects 
which  you  must  aim  at, — not  occasionally, — not  now  and 
then  merely,  when  some  details  of  suffering  obtrude  them- 
selves upon  your  mind,  and  awaken  a  temporary  feeling, — but 
steadily,  constantly,  unweariedly,  as  the  great  business  of  life. 
Your  own  happiness  will  thus  indeed  be  much  promoted ; 
your  aim,  however,  in  pursuing  these  objects  must  not  be 
your  own  happiness,  but  the  accomplishment  of  the  objects 
themselves, — extending  the  reign  of  holiness,  and  fulfilling 
your  duty  as  a  grateful  and  obedient  child  of  God. 


OURSELVES.  85 


Personal  happiness.  A  distinction. 


CHAPTER   III. 

OURSELVE  S. 
"A  wounded  spirit,  who  can  bear." 

THE  reader  may  perhaps  be  surprised  to  find  in  a  work  on 
doing  good,  that  one  of  the  first  chapters  of  practical  direc- 
tions is  devoted  to  self.  But  our  duties  in  respect  to  the  pro- 
motion of  our  own  happiness,  are  very  often  greatly  neglected. 
There  is  selfishness  enough  in  the  world,  no  douht, — and 
eager  desires  to  promote  one's  own  interests  in  respect  to 
property,  and  rights,  and  influence,  and  power, — hut  there 
is  very  little  sober,  judicious,  steady  effort  to  secure  personal 
happiness. 

And  yet  it  is  plainly  a  duty  to  do  this.  If  the  happiness 
of  the  whole  community  is  desirable,  then  is,  of  course,  the 
happiness  of  every  individual  who  is  a  member  of  it.  And 
each  one  who  aims  at  promoting  universal  enjoyment,  must 
take  especial  care  to  secure  his  own.  While  he  feels  that 
his  own  enjoyment  is  of  no  more  importance  than  that  of 
every  other  individual,  he  must  also  remember  that  it  is  of 
no  less.  In  fact,  his  desire  to  secure  the  happiness  of  others, 
is  actually  regulated  in  the  Savior's  law,  by  the  measure  of 
his  interest  in  his  own. 

And  here  I  ought  to  point  out  to  my  young  readers  a  dis- 
tinction, which,  though  simply  metaphysical  in  its  character, 
is  very  important  to  a  full  understanding  of  this  subject.  It 
is  often  said  that  all  men  are  pursuing  happiness,  and  that 


86  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Love  of  fame  or  of  power  distinct  from  love  of  happiness. 

they  must  do  so,  by  the  very  constitution  and  law  of  their 
nature, — that  they  may  mistake  the  mode,  as  they  often  do. 
but  that  there  is  no  want  of  disposition  to  seek  it. 

Now  it  will  appear,  on  a  more  attentive  consideration  of 
human  nature,  that  all  men  are  not  pursuing  happiness. 
They  have  other  objects  which  they  pursue  as  an  end  substi- 
tuted in  the  place  of  happiness,  and  not  as  means  for  obtain- 
ing happiness.  For  example,  a  man  in  political  life  is  press- 
ing forward,  and  making  every  effort  to  obtain  a  certain 
place  of  influence.  It  is  not,  however,  from  any  calculation 
which  he  has  made  that  this  is  the  way  to  find  happiness. 
He  will  tell  you,  if  you  ask  him,  that  he  has  never  enjoyed 
any  happiness  since  he  entered  the  scene  of  strife,  hatred,  and 
war,  in  which  he  is  involved,  and  that  he  never  expects  to 
find  any  till  he  leaves  it.  Why  then,  you  ask,  does  he  not 
abandon  the  ground  ?  Because  there  is,  in  the  very  consti- 
tution of  his  soul,  a  thirst  for  poicer  and.  fame,  as  well  as  a 
thirst  for  happiness,  and  circumstances  have  so  inflamed  and 
excited  the  one,  that  he  scarcely  heeds  the  other.  He  presses 
forward  in  his  course,  because  he  is  ambitious,  not  because 
he  wishes  to  be  happy  ;  that  is,  he  seeks  political  elevation 
on  its  own  account, — as  an  end, — he  feels  a  thirst  for  it, 
which  thirst  can  be  slaked  in  no  other  way  than  by  the  at- 
tainment of  the  particular  thing  that  he  seeks.  It  is  true 
that  there  is  a  kind  of  pleasure  in  indulging  this  and  all  the 
other  simple  propensities  of  the  human  heart :  but  it  is  not 
the  anticipation  of  this  pleasure  which  carries  a  man  onward 
The  mind  rests  or  reposes  on  the  power,  or  the  fame,  as  its 
ultimate  end, — as  a  good  in  itself, — not  as  a  means  merely 
of  securing  happiness. 

Thus,  so  far  from  its  being  true  that  we  are  all  seeking 
happiness,  there  is  a  great  number  and  variety  of  objects 
which  we  seek,  each  of  which  is  felt  by  the  heart  to  be  a 
good  in  itself,  and  is  sought  on  its  own  account.  Sometimes 


OURSELVES.  87 


Love  of  happiness  often  overpowered. 


we  distinctly  understand  that  the  path  which  we  are  taking 
is  leading  us  actually  away  from  happiness,  and  yet  we  will 
press  on  in  it.  How  frequently  does  this  take  place  in  refer- 
ence to  some  besetting  sin.  We  press  on  to  the  committing 
of  it,  conscious,  all  the  time,  'that  we  are  only  making  misery 
for  ourselves.  It  is  not  in  such  a  case  that  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  hallucination,  we  think  that  sin  is  a  means  of  hap- 
piness, but  that  under  the  dominion  of  one  of  the  original  and 
simple  impulses  of  our  nature,  we  love  sin  rather  than  hap- 
piness. Just  as  a  hungry  man  eats,  not  under  the  influence 
of  a  calculation  that  food  is  a  necessary  means  of  preserving 
life,  but  impelled  by  an  instinct  of  nature,  resting  on  the  food 
as  its  ultimate  object.  He  will  even,  when,  in  a  starving 
condition,  he  comes  upon  an  unexpected  supply,  obey  this 
impulse  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  destroy  the  very  life  which  he 
ought  to  endeavor  to  save  ;  and  that,  too,  when  he  is  warned 
that  this  will  be  the  efiect.  He  does  not  mistake  the  way 
to  preserve  his  life, — but  the  cravings  of  starvation,  demand 
food  so  loudly  as  to  overpower  even  the  love  of  life.* 

So  the  love  for  happiness  is  overpowered  by  the  tumultory 
clamor  of  the  crowd  of  ungodly  lusts  and  passions  which  fill 
the  human  bosom.  Men  are  employed  eagerly,  ihdefati- 
gably,  in  making  money, — not  for  the  sake  of  happiness,  but 
for  the  sake  of  the  money.  The  mind  reposes  upon  possession 
as  the  good, — the  ultimate  end  which  it  seeks.  Instead  of 

*  If  any  of  my  readers  entertain  views  of  the  human  mind  which 
lead  them  to  maintain,  that  by  a  careful  analysis,  we  shall  find  that 
obedience  to  these  impulses  is,  in  fact,  only  one  of  the  forms  which  love 
of  happiness  assumes,  they  must  not  consider  these  remarks  as  intended 
to  conflict  with  that  theory  at  all.  I  use  the  phrase,  "  love  of  happi- 
ness," in  its  ordinary  popular  signification ; — as  this  work  is  designed 
solely  for  popular  use  ;  and  for  all  popular  and  practical  purposes,  there 
is  a  wide  distinction  between  the  rational  search  for  happiness,  and 
blind  obedience  to  the  instincts  and  impulses  of  nature,  as  all  will  ad- 
mit, whatever  may  be  their  metaphysical  theories. 


88  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

The  merchants.  Happy  rather  than  rich.  Questions  to  the 'reader. 

desiring  happiness,  and  planning  with  reference  to  the  attain- 
ment of  it,  the  thought  of  happiness,  perhaps,  never  comes 
into  the  mind  from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other.  Ask  a 
hundred  merchants  whether  the  way  which  they  have 
adopted  for  the  management  of  their  business  is  the  best,  that 
is,  the  most  profitable  way,  and  they  will  all  be  ready  with 
an  answer ;  they  will  show  you  that  they  have  looked  at 
that  subject  in  every  aspect  of  it,  and  that  they  are  pursuing 
their  plans  with  the  deliberate  expectation  that  they  are  the 
best  which  they  can  form.  But  ask  them  whether  their 
plans  of  life  are  those  which  they  think  best  adapted  to  se- 
cure their  highest  happiness,  and  they  will  stare,  at  hearing 
your  question,  in  vacant  surprise.  If  they  give  any  answer, 
it  will  be  a  mechanical  one, — or  if  they  really  look  at  the 
question,  in  order  to  give  an  honest  reply,  ninety  of  them  will 
see  that  it  is  a  question  which  they  never  have  considered. 
They  have  been  living  on  from  year  to  year,  obeying  certain 
impulses,  but  never  forming  any  serious  plans  for  happiness, 
or  even  taking  the  subject  at  all  into  account. 

"  He  never  will  be  very  rich,"  said  a  gentleman  describ- 
ing a  certain  Christian  merchant,  "  because  he  had  rather 
be  happy  than  rich."  It  was  a  philosophical  distinction, 
and  it  designated  a  state  of  mind  which  is  very  often 
found  among  those  who  have  the  opportunity  of  making  a 
fortune. 

You  have,  therefore,  my  reader,  two  questions  to  ask  your- 
self in  reference  to  the  subject  of  this  chapter.  First,  are 
you  happy  now  ?  Consider  and  answer  this  question  under- 
standingly.  Is  your  mind  at  peace,  and  does  the  current  of 
tune,  as  it  passes  on,  bring  hours  of  enjoyment  to  you,  day 
after  day  ?  Look  back  to  the  past  week ;  think  of  the  feel- 
ings with  which  you  have  engaged  in  your  duties  ;  call  to 
mind  your  employments,  your  connections  with  others,  your 
daily  routine  of  duty,  and  the  manner  in  which  you  have 


OURSELVES.  89 


Thorough  repentance  and  conversion. 


performed  it ; — and  then  ask  yourself  the  question  whether 
you  are  happy.  Or  is  there  something  wrong  ?  Is  there 
a  corroding,  restless  uneasiness, — an  unsettled,  anxious  mind, 
such  that  your  days  pass  on  without  much  real  enjoyment  ? 

The  second  question  is  whether  you  wish  for  happiness, 
and  are  willing  to  plan  for  it.  Or  is  your  heart  set  upon 
making  money,  or  gaining  fame,  or  gratifying  appetite  or 
passion  ?  These  impulses  will  lead  you  in  a  very  different 
path  from  that  which  conducts  to  happiness,  and  it  is  very 
important  that  you  should  decide  distinctly  which  you  will 
pursue.  If  it  is  happiness  that  you  really  wish  for,  and  if, 
for  the  sake  of  securing  it,  you  are  willing  to  give  up  what 
is  inconsistent  with  it, — sin,  appetite,  covetousness,  ambition, 
passion,  and  every  thing  else  which  comes  in  its  way,  you  may 
easily,  with  God's  blessing,  accomplish  your  desire.  Here 
follow  some  rules. 

1.  See  that  you  make  your  peace  with  God  thoroughly. 
This  book,  being  a  continuation  of  the  Young  Christian  and 
Corner-Stone,  takes  for  granted  that  the  reader  has  had  fully 
explained  to  him  the  necessity  and  the  nature  of  repentance 
and  conversion.  I  shall  not  now,  therefore,  repeat  what  has 
already  been  said  on  those  subjects.  No  person  can  be  happy 
who  does  not  confess  and  forsake  his  sins,  and  make  peace 
with  God  ; — that  is  very  plain, — and  we  are  altogether  too 
far  on  in  the  course  of  our  instruction  to  the  Young  Christian, 
to  urge  it  here.  It  is  one  of  the  elements  which  we  have 
gone  by.  The  point  to  be  urged  here,  is  not  merely  that  you 
must  confess  and  forsake  sin  in  order  to  enjoy  peace  and  hap- 
piness, but  that  you  must  do  it  thoroughly,  and  frequently, 
so  as  to  keep  at  all  times  in  a  state  of  perfect  peace  with 
God. 

The  religious  history  of  the  soul  is  commonly  this.  A 
young  man  when  first  convicted  of  sin,  and  brought  to  heart- 
repentance,  feels  so  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  the  enormity 


90  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

A  common  case.  Incipient  neglect  of  prayer.  Backsliding. 

of  his  guilt,  and  his  heart  is  so  full  of  love  and  gratitude  to 
God,  that  it  seems  to  him  that  he  can  never  wander  again. 
Sin  seems  to  have  lost  all  her  power.  Temptation  is  robbed 
of  all  her  alluring  colors,  and  stands  exposed  before  him,  the 
object  of  his  utter  aversion.  He  wonders  that  he  could  have 
sinned  as  he  has  done,  and  is  sure  that  he  can  never  do  so 
again. 

But  sin  is  wounded,  not  destroyed.  The  evil  plant  is  cut 
down,  but  not  eradicated.  The  roots  remain,  and  in  a  few 
days  or  weeks,  when  the  excitement  of  his  first  ardor  is  over, 
they  begin, — slowly, — to  sprout  again.  Whatever  his  great 
besetting  sins  have  been,  they  appear  again,  disguised,  how- 
ever, by  assuming  a  modified  form,  and  intermingled  with 
other  and  better  plants  in  the  garden  of  his  heart, — so  that 
he  does  not  notice  them.  He  is  busy  about  something  else, 
and  in  the  mean  time  the  noxious  weeds  grow  on,  but  grow 
so  gradually,  that  though  he  at  last  begins  to  see  them,  they 
do  not  startle  him.  He  gets  accustomed  to  them,  before  he 
observes  them. 

By  and  by  he  finds  himself  indulging  sin,  and  perhaps 
committing  overt  acts  which  imply  that  he  has  made  a  very 
considerable  progress  in  his  downward  road.  Some  Satur- 
day night  as  he  is  retiring  to  rest,  he  thinks,  just  as  his 
faculties  are  sinking  into  slumber,  that  he  has,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  actually  neglected  secret  prayer  during  the 
whole  week.  His  moral  sensibilities  are  however  so  much 
blunted,  that  he  does  not  feel  the  guilt  of  this,  but  still  he 
recollects  how  often  he  has  heard  the  danger  of  this  sin  pointed 
out,  and  perhaps  how  often  and  how  emphatically  he  has 
himself  pointed  it  out, — and  he  feels  a  moment's  alarm. 
But  it  is  a  very  superficial  alarm  ;  he  commences  a  prayer, 
but  before  he  has  framed  many  of  his  petitions,  his  growing 
drowsiness  overpowers  both  conscience  and  reason,  and  he 
sinks  to  sleep.  The  only  effect  of  this  momentary  alarm  is. 


OURSELVES.  91 


The  usual  steps.  Necessity  of  entire  reconciliation  with  God. 

— r 


not  to  make  him  return  to  his  duty  the  next  week,  but  only 
to  feel  a  little  more  uneasy  in  the  neglect  of  it. 

Or  perhaps  his  besetting  sin  is  pride,  or  sensuality, — the 
indulgence  of  some  appetite,  or  animal  passion, — or  world 
liness.  or  covetousness ;  and  he  finds  after  a  time,  that  these 
sins,  though  he  hoped  that  they  were  crucified  and  slain,  are 
still  existing  in  all  their  strength.  They  have  returned, 
however,  in  the  manner  already  explained,  so  gradually, 
that  he  has  become  familiar  with  their  dominion  again. 
They  have  fastened  their  chains  upon  him  by  slow  degrees, 
and  he  has  gradually  become  accustomed  to  their  thraldom, 
so  that  he  does  not  arouse  himself  to  any  vigorous  effort  to 
escape ;  he  only  perceives  the  danger  of  his  condition  just 
often  enough,  and  just  distinctly  enough,  to  make  him  un- 
easy and  unhappy.  God  withdraws  from  him,  and  hides  his 
face.  His  prayers  are  not  heard.  He  knows  they  are  not 
heard.  He  perhaps  keeps  up  the  form,  but  he  feels  guilty 
and  condemned  all  the  time.  Still  all  that  he  does,  in  the 
way  of  repentance  and  return,  is  to  say  now  and  then,  in  a 
moment  of  more  serious  reflection  than  usual,  "I  am  wan- 
dering sadly  from  God  :  I  must  return.  I  am  destroying  my 
peace  and  happiness,  and  endangering  my  soul."  Then  he 
sinks  again  into  his  lethargy. 

Now  what  I  mean  to  say  to  the  reader,  in  respect  to  this 
part  of  my  subject,  is  this.  If  you  wish  to  be  happy, — if 
you  wish  to  have  any  real  peace,  any  steady,  and  substantial 
enjoyment,  you  must  make  up  your  mind  decidedly,  whether 
you  will  be  the  child  of  God,  or  not.  If  you  expect  him  to 
take  you  under  his  care,  you  must  be  his,  really,  honestly, 
thoroughly, — not  merely  in  pretense  and  in  form.  If  you 
find,  therefore,  in  looking  into  your  heart,  that  you  are  not 
happy,  it  is  very  probable  that  the  cause  may  be,  that  you 
are  not  really  and  fully  at  peace  with  God.  You  have  only 
declared  a  truce,  and  then  recommenced  hostilities.  Of  course, 


92  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Order  in  worldly  aflaira.  Effects  of  system. 

you  can  not  expect  to  enjoy  a  quiet  and  a  happy  heart.  You 
may  depend  upon  it,  that  your  days  must  be  days  of  uneasiness 
and  misery,  until  you  come  and  make  yourself  wholly  the 
Lord's.  To  secure  your  happiness,  then,  your  first  duty  is 
most  faithfully  and  thoroughly  to  examine  your  spiritual 
condition, — to  confess  and  to  crucify  your  dearest  sins,  and 
casting  yourself  upon  the  merits  and  atonement  of  your 
Savior,  to  make  a  complete  and  lasting  peace  with  God. 
Then  you  will  be  prepared  to  go  on  to  the  next  step. 

2.  And  the  next  step,  in  the  order  of  importance,  is  to  see 
that  all  your  worldly  affairs  are  in  order.  The  magic  power 
of  system  in  facilitating  effort  has  often  been  praised,  but  it 
has,  if  possible,  a  still  greater  power  to  promote  happiness. 
People  talk  about  the  cares  of  business,  the  perplexities  of 
their  daily  lot,  the  endless  intricacies  in  which  they  find 
themselves  involved.  But  they  are,  nine  out  of  ten  of  them, 
the  cares  of  mismanagement, — the  perplexities  and  the  in- 
tricacies of  confusion.  The  burdens  of  human  life  are,  prob- 
ably, upon  the  average,  doubled,  and  sometimes  rendered  ten- 
fold greater  than  they  otherwise  would  be  by  the  want  of 
regularity  and  system.  The  proof  of  this  is,  that  when  a 
man,  either  from  some  native  peculiarity  of  mind,  or  the 
effect  of  early  education,  acquires  the  habit  of  order  and 
method,  he  can  accomplish  more  than  twice  as  much  as  ordi- 
nary men, — and  of  all  the  men  in  the  community,  he  is  the 
most  likely  never  to  be  in  a  hurry, — but  always  to  be  calm 
and  quiet,  and  to  have  leisure  for  any  new  and  sudden  call. 
Now,  if  he  can  do  twice  as  much,  with  no  more  care  and 
hurry,  it  is  plain  that  he  could  perform  the  ordinary  work  of 
man  with  a  far  more  quiet  and  peaceful  mind.  This  is  un- 
questionable. The  facts  are  unquestionable,  and  the  infer- 
ence to  be  drawn  from  them  is  immediate  and  irresistible. 

But  let  us  look  more  particularly  at  the  manner  in  which 
irregularity  and  confusion,  in  the  management  of  worldly 


OURSELVES.  03 


History  of  James.  His  morning's  duties.  Procrastination. 

business,  affects  the  peace  and  happiness  of  the  heart.  There 
are  few  persons  so  correct  in  this  respect,  that  they  will  not 
find  a  testimony  within  them  to  the  truth  of  what  I  shall 
say.  We  will  begin  with  a  very  simple  case 

James  is  a  school-boy.  His  affairs,  though  not  quite  so 
intrinsically  extensive  and  important  as  those  of  an  East 
India  merchant,  are  still  important  to  him.  He  has  his 
business,  his  cares,  his  disappointments  ; — and  the  conditions 
of  success  and  happiness  are  the  same  with  him  as  with  all 
mankind.  We  will,  therefore,  take  his  case  as  the  basis  of 
our  illustration,  as  we  hope  this  chapter  will  be  read  by 
many  a  school- boy,  and  the  imagination  of  the  man  can  more 
easily  descend  to  the  school-boy's  scene  of  labor,  than  the 
boy's  ascend  to  that  of  the  man. 

James,  then,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  school-boy,  and  his  first 
duty  in  the  morning, — I  speak  only  of  his  worldly  duties 
here, — is  to  rise  at  six  o'clock,  and  make  the  fires  in  his 
father's  house.  James  hears  the  clock  strike  six, — but  it  is 
cold,  and  he  shrinks  from  his  morning's  task,  so  he  lies  still, 
postponing  the  necessary  effort ;  his  mind,  all  the  time  dwell- 
ing upon  it  and  dreading  it,  and  his  conscience  goading  and 
worrying  him  with  the  thought  that  he  is  doing  wrong 
Thus  pass  fifteen  minutes  very  wretchedly.  The  mistake 
which  he  makes,  is  in  imagining  that  of  the  two  evils,  a 
little  sensation  of  cold  on  his  face  and  limbs,  while  dressing, 
and  on  the  other  hand,  the  corroding  tooth  of  a  disturbed 
conscience,  gnawing  within, — the  former  is  the  greatest. 
So  he  quietly  waits,  suffering  the  latter  for  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes,  until  the  lapse  of  time  makes  it  too  intolerable  to 
be  borne  any  longer,  and  then  he  slowly  forces  himself  out 
of  his  bed  ;  when  he  finds, — sagacious  boy, — that  he  has  got 
still  to  bear  the  other  evil,  after  all.  Instead  of  taking  the 
least  of  the  two  evils,  he  has  taken  both,  and  the  bitterest 


94 

It*  folly. 


THE    WAY    TO   DO    GOOD. 


James's  sufferings. 


first.  Many  of  my  readers  will  acquit  themselves  of  James'a 
folly.  But  be  not  in  haste.  Do  you  never  in  any  way  pro- 
crastinate duty  ?  Look  over  your  mental  memorandum,  and 
see  if  there  is  nothing  upon  it  that  you  ought  to  do,  but  which 
you  have  been  putting  off,  and  putting  off,  because  you  have 
been  dreading  it.  If  so,  you  are  James  completely.  He 
who  procrastinates  duty  which  he  knows  at  last  must  be 
done,  always  does,  of  two  evils,  choose  both,  beginning  with 
the  bitterest  portion. 

I  said  that  James  had  chosen  two  evils.  He  has,  in  fact, 
chosen  three,  for  the  recollection  of  this  neglect  of  duty,  or 
rather  the  impression  which  it  has  made,  will  continue  all 
the  morning.  For  hours,  there  will  be  a  settled  uneasiness  in 
his  mind,  whose  cause  and  origin  he  may  not  distinctly  under- 
stand, though  he  might  find  it,  if  he  would  search  for  it.  He 
feels  restless  and  miserable,  though  he  knows  not  exactly  why. 

When  James  comes 
down  to  his  work,  he 
finds  no  proper  prep- 
aration made.  The 
wood,  which  ought  to 
have  been  carefully 
prepared  the  evening 
before,  is  out  under  the 
snow.  The  fire  has 
gone  out,  and  his  tin- 
der-box he  can  not 
find.  He  has  no  place 
for  it,  and  of  course  he 
has  to  search  for  it  at 
random.  When  he 
finds  it,  the  matches 
are  gone,  the  flint  is 
worn  out,  and  only  a 


OURSELVES.  95 


Shiftlessness ;— disorder ;— confusion ; — and  misery. 


few  shreds  of  tinder  remain.  Perplexed  and  irritated  at  the 
box,  instead  of  being  penitent  for  his  own  sinful  negligence, 
he  toils  for  a  long  time,  and  at  last  meets  with  partial  suc- 
cess in  kindling  his  morning  fires,  an  hour  after  the  proper 
time.  The  family,  however,  do  not  distinctly  call  him  to 
account  for  his  negligence,  for  the  family  which  produces 
such  a  character,  will  generally  he  itself  as  shiftless  as  he. 
Still,  though  he  expects  to  sustain  no  immediate  accounta- 
bility, he  feels  uneasy  and  restless,  especially  as  he  finds  that 
his  postponed  and  neglected  morning's  work  is  encroaching 
upon  the  time  that  he  had  allotted  to  his  morning's  lesson. 

For  James  is,  as  I  have  already  said,  a  school-boy,  and  the 
lesson  which  he  is  to  be  called  upon  to  recite,  as  soon  as  he 
enters  school  in  the  morning,  he  had  postponed  from  the 
evening  before,  when  it  ought  to  have  been  studied,  to  the 
half-hour  after  breakfast,  which,  without  any  reason,  he 
expected  that  he  should  find  available.  Acting  without 
plan  and  without  calculation,  he  is,  of  course,  disappointed, 
and  when  he  rises  from  his  breakfast  table,  he  seems  sur- 
prised to  find  that  it  is  time  for  school  to  begin.  He  hurries 
away  to  make  his  preparations, — to  find  his  books,  and  his 
hat,  and  his  coat,— for  every  morning  they  have  to  be  found. 
He  goes  about  the  house  with  chafed  feelings,  scowling  brow 
and  fretful  tone,  displeased  with  every  body  and  every  thing, 
except  the  proper  object  of  displeasure, — himself. 

He  hurries  to  school.  It  is  a  bright  and  beautiful  winter 
morning,  and  every  thing  external  tends  to  calm  the  mind 
to  peaceful  happiness,  or  to  awaken  emotions  of  joy.  But 
James  can  not  be  happy.  Even  if  he  should  now  begin  to 
be  faithful  in  duty,  it  would  be  many  hours  before  the  turbu- 
lent sea  of  commotion  which  he  has  raised  among  the  moral 
feelings  of  his  heart  would  subside.  He  walks  along,  rest- 
less, anxious, — conscience  gnawing  upon  him, — unhappy, 
he  knows  not  why,— -and  looking  away  from  himself,  at  the 


96  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


James's  character.          Settled  and  permanent  unhappiness.          The  application. 

-» 

external  circumstances  in  which  he  is  placed,  as  the  sources 
of  his  sufferings,  instead  of  finding  their  true  cause  within. 

I  need  not  follow  him  through  the  day.  Every  one  will 
see,  that  with  such  habits,  he  must  be  miserable.  And  yet 
James  is  not  a  bad  boy,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word. 
He  has  no  vices.  He  will  not  steal.  He  will  not  lie.  He 
loves  his  father  and  mother,  and  never  directly  disobeys  them, 
or  does  any  thing  intentionally  to  give  them  pain.  And 
perhaps  my  readers  will  be  much  surprised  to  have  me  tell 
them  that  he  is  a  Christian.  He  is,  nevertheless,  a  sincere 
Christian.  He  has  repented  of  his  sins,  and  made  his  peace 
with  God,  and  lives  in  the  daily  habit  of  communion  with 
God.  In  his  hours  of  retirement  and  prayer,  he  experiences 
many  seasons  of  high  enjoyment, — and  yet  generally  he  leads 
a  very  wretched  life.  A  constant,  wearing,  irritating  un- 
easiness corrodes  his  inmost  soul,  he  knows  not  why  or  where- 
fore. In  fact,  he  seldom  inquires  why.  He  has  borne  it  so 
long  and  so  constantly,  that  he  has  no  idea  that  serenity, 
peace  of  mind,  and  steady  happiness,  is  within  the  reach  of 
the  human  soul,  in  this  world.  Thus  he  goes  on,  accom- 
plishing very  little,  and  suffering  a  great  deal;  and  the 
reader  must  remember  that  it  is  the  last, — the  suffering, — 
that  we  are  now  considering  ;  for  our  object,  in  this  chapter, 
is,  not  to  show  how  want  of  system,  and  regularity,  and 
faithfulness,  interferes  with  success  in  life,  but  how  it  annihi- 
lates happiness. 

Very  many  of  my  readers  now  will  probably  find,  by  care- 
ful examination  of  themselves,  that  though  their  circum- 
stances and  condition  may  be  totally  different  from  those  of 
James,  their  characters  are  substantially  like  his.  Disorder, 
irregularity,  and  perhaps  confusion,  reign  in  your  affairs. 
Instead  of  acting  on  a  general  plan,  having  your  business 
well  arranged,  your  accounts  settled,  your  work  in  advance, 
— you  act  from  impulse,  and  temporary  necessity.  Instead 


OURSELVES.  97 


Necessary  condition  of  happiness.  The  master  of  a  family. 

of  looking  forward  and  foreseeing  duty  and  providing  for  its 
claims,  regularly  and  methodically,  you  wait  until  it  forces 
itself  upon  you,  and  then  waste  your  time  and  your  spirits 
in  hesitating  on  the  question,  which  of  two  things,  both  appa- 
rently duty,  you  shall  do  ;  or  hy  endeavoring  to  provide,  by 
temporary  shifts,  for  unexpected  emergencies,  which  need 
not  have  been  unexpected  or  unprovided  for.  You  neglect  or 
postpone  unpleasant  duties,  leaving  them  to  hang  as  a  burden 
upon  your  mind,  marring  your  peace  and  happiness,  until  at 
length  you  are  forced  to  attend  to  them,  not,  however,  until 
some  new  neglect  or  postponement  is  ready  to  supply  their 
place  by  a  new  thorn  of  irritation  in  your  side. 

I  say  then  that  the  second  great  rule  for  the  securing  of 
your  own  personal  happiness,  is,  to  reduce  all  your  worldly 
business,  your  affairs,  your  property,  your  domains,  your  em- 
ployments, your  pleasures, — reduce  every  thing  to  order. 
Without  it,  you  can  not  have  a  peaceful  mind,  and  of  course, 
can  not  be  happy.  But  I  must  be  more  particular  in  de- 
scribing what  I  mean.  For  as  the  book  is  designed  for  prac- 
tical usefulness,  I  may  often  properly  descend  from  the  dig- 
nity of  general  moral  instruction,  to  minute  and  specific  de- 
tails of  duty. 

Suppose,  then,  you  are  the  master  of  a  family.  Now  un- 
less your  household  affairs  are  all  well  arranged,  and  con- 
ducted methodically,  they  will  be  a  source  of  uneasiness  to 
you.  A  gate  hanging  by  one  hinge,  or  a  broken  latch,  or  a 
caster  off  of  a  piece  of  furniture,  are  mere  trifles  in  them- 
selves ;  and  so  is  the  point  of  a  thorn,  broken  off  in  your  hand, 
and  one  is  just  such  a  sort  of  trifle  as  the  other.  You  will 
find,  probably,  if  you  possess  the  difficult  art  of  analyzing 
your  own  feelings,  that  a  very  large  portion  of  the  uncom- 
fortable feelings,  which  you  experience  during  those  hours 
which  you  spend  at  home, — for  I  suppose,  of  course,  that  you 
are  a  Christian,  and  have  no  serious  anxieties  about  eternity, 

E 


98  THE    WAY    TO   DO    GOOD. 

Regulation.  The  mistress.  Drawers  and  closets. 

— arise  from  just  such  things.  Now  make  thorough  work  of 
it,  and  remove  them  all.  Arouse  your  moral  resolution,  and 
take  hold  at  once.  Go  through  your  premises,  and  see  that 
every  thing  is  as  it  ought  to  be.  Whenever  you  find  any 
difficulty, — any  thing  that  produces  friction  and  disturbance, 
stop  till  you  have  devised  and  applied  the  best  remedy  you 
can.  See  that  things  have  their  places,  and  that  they  keep 
them.  See,  too,  that  duties  and  employments  have  their  times, 
and  that  they  keep  them.  Do  this  kindly,  gently,  but  firmly. 
Interest  others  in  the  work  of  co-operating  with  you  in  the 
change,  and  you  will  find  that  by  a  few  hours'  attention  to 
this  single  field  of  labor — hours,  too,  which  may  perhaps  be 
taken  from  several  successive  days, — you  will  remove  a  mass 
of  causes  of  anxiety,  and  sources  of  uneasiness  and  mental 
friction,  which  you  had  no  idea  existed. 

Perhaps  you  are  the  mistress  of  a  family  ; — and  sometimes 
you  feel  dejected  and  sad,  you  know  not  why.  It  is  very 
probable  that  it  may  be  because  you  are  unsystematic  and 
irregular  in  your  sphere  of  duty.  Is  your  house  in  order  ? 
Look  around  and  see.  Look  into  your  drawers,  your  closets, 
your  bureaus,  and  imagine  that  a  stranger  of  distinction, 
whose  good  opinion  you  were  desirous  of  securing,  is  making 
the  examination  with  you.  You  may  perhaps  think  it 
strange,  that  such  a  subject  as  order  in  drawers  and  closets, 
should  be  introduced  into  a  book  of  religious  instruction. 
But  do  you  never  consider,  when  you  tell  your  child  that, 
though  he  may  conceal  his  faults  from  the  eyes  of  man, 
he  can  not  conceal  them  from  the  eye  of  God, — that  the 
same  God  sees  very  distinctly,  all  that  you  would  so  studious- 
ly conceal  from  your  visitors  and  your  friends  ?  Or  do  you 
thinjc  that  you  are  not  responsible,  for  the  manner  in  which 
you  arrange  and  manage  the  affairs  of  your  household ; — that 
domain,  which  God  has  so  peculiarly  confided  to  you  ;  or  im- 
agine, when  you  attempt  to  conceal  the  evidences  of  untidi- 


OURSELVES.  99 


Order.  Review  and  arrangement  of  duties.  Peace  of  mind. 

ness  or  confusion  from  the  eyes  of  men,  that  any  thing  will 
do  to  satisfy  God  ?  Are  his  ideas  of  order  and  method  less 
high,  do  you  suppose,  than  those  of  your  neighbors,  that  you 
should  fear  their  scrutiny  more  than  his  ? 

Put  your  house  in  order.  Not  merely  in  respect  to  its 
arrangement,  but  in  respect  to  all  your  duties,  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  your  sacred  trust.  Consider  deliberately,  in 
your  hours  of  retirement,  what  your  duties  are,  and  arrange 
them.  See  that  you  devote  a  proper  portion  of  time  to  them 
all.  Ought  you  to  cultivate  the  morals  of  your  children  ? 
Then  do  it  regularly,  systematically  ;  have  a  plan  for  it. 
Ought  you  to  cultivate  your  own  mind  ?  Then  make  pro- 
vision for  this  duty.  Ought  you  to  devote  any  portion  of 
your  time  to  the  occupations  and  pleasures  of  social  inter- 
course ?  If  so,  understand  distinctly  that  it  is  your  duty,  and 
consider  how  far  it  is  your  duty  :  and  make  specific  provision 
for  it.  I  do  not  mean  that  you  are  to  mark  out  the  hours  of 
your  day,  and  allot  to  every  one  its  prescribed  task,  as  a 
school-boy  may  very  properly  do.  This,  I  well  know,  would 
be  impossible,  weje  you  to  attempt  it,  and  would  be  unwise, 
were  it  possible.  It  may,  and  in  fact  it  ought  to  be  done,  in 
respect  to  those  duties  which  form  a  part  of  the  daily  routine 
of  employment,  but  in  regard  to  others,  it  is  neither  possible 
nor  wise.  What  I  mean,  is,  that  the  various  occupations 
which  have  a  claim  upon  you,  should  all  be  examined,  and 
that  that  portion  which  you  ought  to  undertake,  should  be 
marked  out  and  well  defined.  What  comes  within  these 
limits  will  be  duty.  Reduce,  then,  to  some  system  and 
method,  what  you  ought  to  do,  and  you  may  proceed  with 
your  daily  avocations  with  a  quiet  and  happy  heart.  With- 
out it,  you  will  always  be  restless  and  uneasy.  As  you  walk 
about  your  house,  you  will  continually  find  objects  to  irritate 
and  vex  you.  Your  various  duties  will  jostle  one  another  in 
their  rush  upon  you,  and  in  their  disputes  for  your  attention  ; 


100  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

AdTice  to  a  school-boy.  Desks,  drawers,  implements,  books. 

and  the  time  for  attending  to  all  of  them  will  glide  by,  while 
you  are  hearing  their  conflicting  claims.  Thus  many  hours 
of  every  day  will  be  passed  in  useless  indecision,  bringing 
restless  uneasiness  to  the  heart  so  often,  and  continuing  it  so 
long,  that  at  length  this  will  become  its  settled  and  perma- 
nent character.  You  try,  you  think,  to  be  faithful, — you 
certainly  are  hurried  and  busy  enough,  and  you  indulge  your- 
self in  but  little  real  recreation.  Still  you  .are  not  success- 
ful. Life  does  not  pass  smoothly  with  you.  You  do  not  ac- 
complish what  you  wish,  and  what  you  see  some  others  do 
accomplish.  You  are  wretched,  and  yet  you  do  not  know 
why. 

But  perhaps  my  reader  is  a  school-boy,  and  inquires  how 
these  principles  apply  to  his  case.  Put  all  your  business  in 
order  too.  Look  over  your  affairs,  and  consider  what  your 
duties  and  employments  ought  to  be,  and  see  that  all  are 
properly  arranged  and  systematized.  Have  a  place,  and  see 
too  that  it  is  the  best  place,  for  your  hat,  your  coat,  your  sled, 
your  books, — all  your  property  of  every  kind.  Consider  what 
your  daily  work  at  home  is, — for  every  boy  ought  to  have 
some  daily  responsibility  at  home, — and  see  whether  you  per- 
form this  in  the  best  way.  Make  regular  and  proper  prep- 
arations for  it.  Have  your  tools  and  implements  in  good 
order,  and  arranged  in  the  most  convenient  places.  See  that 
you  do  all  your  work  in  season,  that  is,  a  little  before  the  sea- 
son, so  as  never  to  be  hurried,  and  never  to  feel  that  you  are 
behindhand.  See  that  your  desk  in  school  is  in  good  order, 
— and  every  thing  in  it  arranged  in  the  most  convenient  way 
for  use,  and  do  the  same  with  your  shelves  and  drawers  at 
home ; — so  that  you  could  go  in  the  dark,  and  find  any 
article  in  your  possession,  by  putting  your  hand  where  it 
ought  to  be. 

If,  now,  your  habits  are,  in  these  respects,  as  irregular  and 
disorderly  as  those  of  most  boys,  it  will  require  some  time, 


OURSELVES.  101 


The  man  of  business.  Unsettled  accounts ;  unfinished  plans. 

and  not  a  little  faithful,  vigorous  effort,  to  accomplish  such  a 
thorough  revolution  as  is  essential  to  your  happiness.  But 
you  may  be  assured  that  such  a  revolution  is  essential. 
While  every  thing  is  in  confusion, — your  books  lost,  your 
habits  irregular,  and  your  duties  performed  without  method 
and  system,  only  as  they  are  forced  upon  your  attention,  you 
never  can  be  happy.  Unpleasant  associations  will  be  con- 
nected with  all  you  see.  Almost  every  object  which  meets 
your  eye,  at  school  or  at  home,  will  remind  you  of  your  re- 
missness  or  neglect, — and  of  the  disordered  and  shiftless  con- 
dition of  all  your  affairs.  And  though  you  may  not  distinctly 
think  of  the  cause,  you  will  find  really  arising  from  this 
cause,  a  continued  and  incessant  uneasiness  of  mind,  which 
will  follow  you  everywhere,  and  effectually  destroy  your 
happiness. 

So  whatever  may  be  the  reader's  situation  and  condition 
in  life,  if  he  wishes  to  be  happy,  let  him  regulate  his  affairs. 
If  you  have  uncertain,  unsettled  accounts  open, — which  you 
have  been  dreading  to  examine,  go  and  explore  the  cases 
thoroughly  and  have  them  closed.  If  there  have  been  duties 
neglected,  which  have  still  been  lying  like  a  weight  upon 
your  mind,  go  and  perform  them  at  once.  If  there  are  plans 
which  you  have  been  intending  to  accomplish,  but  which  you 
have  been  postponing  and  postponing,  thinking  of  them  from 
time  to  time,  and  saying  to  yourself  you  must  attend  to  them, 
— summon  your  resolution,  and  carry  them  at  once  into  effect, 
or  else  determine  to  abandon  them,  and  dismiss  them  from 
your  thoughts.  The  mind  of  a  young  and  ardent  man  be- 
comes loaded  with  crude,  half-formed  designs,  unfinished 
plans,  and  .duties  postponed.  He  is  like  a  child  unaccustomed 
to  the  world,  who  takes  a  walk  on  a  pleasant  summer's  day. 
Every  object  seems  valuable,  and  he  picks  up  a  pebble  here, 
and  a  stick  there,  and  gathers  a  load  of  great  flowers  in  this 
place  and  that,  until  he  becomes  so  encumbered  with  his 


102  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Selection  of  objects.  Expenses  and  pecuniary  liabilities. 

treasures  that  he  can  hardly  go  on.  They  are  constantly 
slipping  and  dropping  from  his  hands,  and  become  a  source 
of  perplexity  and  anxiety  to  him,  because  he  can  not  retain 
them  all.  So  with  us.  Every  plan  which  reason  forms  or 
imagination  paints,  we  think  we  must  execute  ;  but  after 
having  made  a  beginning,  a  new  project  enters  our  heads, 
which  we  are  equally  eager  to  secure,  and  thus  in  a  short 
time  we  become  encumbered  with  a  mass  of  intellectual  lum- 
ber, which  we  can  not  carry,  and  are  unwilling  to  leave. 
Now  look  over  all  these  things, — consider  what  you  can  and 
will  execute,  and  take  hold  of  the  execution  of  them  now. 
Abandon  the  rest,  so  that  you  may  move  forward  with  a  mind 
free  and  untrammeled.  It  is  the  only  way  by  which  you  can 
enjoy  any  peace  or  serenity  of  mind, — and  without  peace  and 
serenity  there  can  be  no  happiness. 

This,  then,  is  the  second  great  rule  for  securing  personal 
happiness.  Look  over  your  affairs,  and  arrange  and  method- 
ize every  thing.  Define  in  your  own  mind  what  you  have 
to  do,  and  dismiss  every  thing  else.  Take  time  for  reflec- 
tion, and  plan  all  your  work  so  as  to  go  on  smoothly,  quietly, 
and  in  season,  so  that  the  mind  may  be  ahead  of  all  its  duties, 
choosing  its  own  way,  and  going  forward  quietly  and  in 
peace. 

There  is  one  point  in  connection  with  this  subject  of  the 
management  of  worldly  affairs,  which  ought  not  to  be  passed 
by,  and  which  is  yet  an  indispensable  condition  of  human 
happiness.  I  mean  the  duty  of  every  man  to  bring  his  ex- 
penses and  his  pecuniary  liabilities  fairly  within  his  control. 
There  are  some  cases  of  a  peculiar  character,  and  some  occa- 
sional emergencies,  perhaps,  in  the  life  of  every  man  which 
constitute  exceptions  ;  but  this  is  the  general  rule. 

The  plentifulness  of  money  depends  upon  its  relation  to 
our  expenditures.  An  English  nobleman,  with  an  annual  in- 
come of  .£50,000,  may  be  pressed  for  money,  and  be  harassed 


OURSELVES.  103 


Pecuniary  embarrassment.  Way  to  avoid. 

by  it  to  such  a  degree  as  to  make  life  a  burden  ;  while  an 
Irish  laborer  on  a  railroad-  in  New  England,  with  eighty 
cents  a  day  in  the  dead  of  winter,  may  have  a  plentiful  sup- 
ply Reduce,  then,  your  expenditures,  and  your  style  of  liv- 
ing, and  your  business  too,  so  far  below  your  pecuniary 
means,  that  you  may  have  money  in  plenty.  There  is,  per- 
haps, nothing  which  so  grinds  the  human  soul,  and  produces 
such  an  insupportable  burden  of  wretchedness  and  despond- 
ency, as  pecuniary  pressure.  Nothing  more  frequently  drives 
men  to  suicide.  And  there  is,  perhaps,  no  danger  to  which 
men  in  an  active  and  enterprising  community  are  more  ex- 
posed. Almost  all  are  eagerly  reaching  forward  to  a  station 
in  life  a  little  above  what  they  can  well  afford,  or  struggling 
to  do  a  business  a  little  more  extensive  than  they  have  capi- 
tal or  steady  credit  for  ;  and  thus  they  keep  all  through  life 
just  above  their  means ; — and  just  above,  no  matter  by  how 
small  an  excess,  is  inevitable  misery. 

Be  sure,  then,  if  your  aim  is  happiness,  to  bring  down  at 
all  hazards  your  style  of  living,  and  your  responsibilities  of 
business,  to  such  a  point  that  you  shall  easily  be  able  to 
reach  it.  Do  this,  I  say,  at  all  hazards.  If  you  can  not 
have  money  enough  for  your  purposes,  in  a  house  with  two 
rooms,  take  a  house  with  one.  It  is  your  only  chance  for 
happiness.  For  there  is  such  a  thing  as  happiness  in  a  single 
room,  with  plain  furniture  and  simple  fare ;  but  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  happiness,  with  responsibilities  which  can  not 
be  met,  and  debts  increasing,  without  any  prospect  of  their 
discharge.  If  your  object  is  gentility,  or  the  credit  of  belong- 
ing to  good  society, — or  the  most  rapid  accumulation  of  prop- 
erty, and  you  are  willing  to  sacrifice  happiness  for  it,  I 
might,  perhaps,  give  you  different  advice.  But  if  your  object 
is  happiness,  this  is  the  only  way. 

The  principles  which  we  have  thus  far  laid  down  as  the 
means  of  attaining  personal  happiness,  relate  to  our  duties  in 


104  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Contentions.  The  Christian  principle.  Conflicting  claims. 

respect,  more  particularly,  to  ourselves.  Our  happiness  will 
depend  very  much  also  upon  the  state  of  our  relations  with 
others.  There  are  certain  principles  which  must  regulate 
these  relations,  or  we  can  not  enjoy  peace  and  happiness. 
The  other  beings  with  whom  we  have  chiefly  to  do,  are  our 
fellow-men  and  God,  and  hy  our  feelings  and  conduct  toward 
both  we  often  mar  and  poison  our  own  enjoyment. 

1.  By  contentions  with   the   injustice  and  selfishness  of 
men  ;  and, 

2.  By  struggling  and  repining  against  the  Providence  of 
God. 

We  must  devote  a  few  pages  to  each  of  these  subjects. 

1.  Contentions  with  men. 

Christianity  makes  the  human  soul  unyielding,  uncompro- 
mising, firm  even  unto  death,  in  a  matter  of  principle  or 
duty  ;  but  the  very  reverse  in  all  respects  in  a  matter  of  per- 
sonal interest.  Some  Christians,  however,  are  as  strenuous 
in  maintaining  every  tittle  of  their  rights,  from  their  neighbors 
and  business  connections,  as  the  most  hard-hearted,  usurious 
creditor  is,  in  exacting  from  his  debtor  the  uttermost  farthing 
due.  It  is  true  that  they  endeavor  to  draw  the  line  correctly 
between  their  neighbors'  interests  and  their  own,  but  then 
they  take  their  stand  upon  this  line  with  the  determination 
of  a  soldier,  and  resolve  that  as  they  will  not  themselves  en- 
croach, so  they  will  not  submit  to  encroachment. 

Now  this  principle  might  not  lead  to  any  difficulty  in  a 
world  not  fallen,  but  it  is  not  safe  to  adopt  it  here.  Inter- 
mingled as  are  all  the  various  interests  of  the  community, 
and  biased  as  every  man's  view  is,  in  respect  to  his  own,  it  is 
impossible  to  ascertain  where  the  exact  boundaries  are  which 
separate  "  the  mine"  from  "  the  thine."  The  vision  is 
affected  by  the  disordered  state  of  the  moral  affections,  so 
that  men  see  differently  even  what  they  wish  to  see  as  it  is  ; 
and  if  all  men  are  therefore  to  adopt  it  as  a  principle,  that 


OURSELVES.  105 


Non-resistance.  Isaac's  principle. 

they  will  adhere  firmly  to  every  thing  which  they  honestly 
believe  to  be  their  right,  they  must  be  continually  coming 
'nto  collision  with  one  another. 

Thus  any  man  who  will  look  fairly  at  the  condition  of  hu- 
man nature,  will  see  the  necessity  of  mutual  forbearance  and 
concession.  But  all  doubt  in  respect  to  duty  on  this  subject 
is  put  at  rest  by  our  Savior's  explicit  instructions.  Let  those 
of  my  readers  who  are  accustomed  to  look  upon  firmness  in 
the  maintenance  of  their  own  rights,  as  a  duty,  consider  the 
following  words  of  our  Savior,  and  ask  what  they  mean. 

"  I  say  unto  you,  that  ye  resist  not  evil ;  but  whosoever 
shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other 
also.  And  if  any  man  will  sue  thee  at  the  law,  and  take 
away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak  also.  And  whosoever 
shall  compel  thee  to  go  a  mile,  go  with  him  twain." 

Are  these  now  really  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  And,  if 
so,  what  do  they  mean  ?  I  admit,  that  they  are  figurative. 
I  admit,  also,  that  the  sentiment  which  they  convey  is  very 
strongly  expressed.  The  more  strongly,  probably,  in  order 
that  it  might  stand  in  more  striking  contrast  with  the  general 
sentiment  prevailing  at  that  day,  which  our  Savior  was 
endeavoring  to  correct.  Still,  they  must  have  a  meaning  ; 
they  must  be  intended  to  convey  a  sentiment,  and  it  is  utter- 
ly impossible  to  derive  any  meaning  from  language,  unless 
the  speaker  intended  here  to  teach,  that  his  followers  must 
not  be  engaged  in  quarrels  to  maintain  their  own  personal 
interests  and  rights.  So  far,  at  least,  the  meaning  of  the 
passage  is  clear ;  and  Christians  ought  to  obey  the  precept. 
If  there  is  a  quarrel  about  the  well  which  you  have  dug,  go, 
like  Isaac,  and  dig  another ;  and  if  this  becomes  the  subject 
of  contention,  go  and  dig  a  third.  Isaac's  father,  too,  under- 
stood the  Christian  way  of  settling  disputes.  "  You  may 
take  the  left  hand,  and  I  will  take  the  right,  or  you  may 

E* 


106  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Effects  of  opposition  and  contention.  Defenseleaenea*. 

take  the  right  hand,  and  I  will  take  the  left.  Is  not  the 
whole  land  before  thee  ?" 

But,  says  some  reader,  accustomed  to  the  doctrine  and 
practice  of  self-defense,  such  a  principle  will  leave  every  man 
in  the  state  of  the  most  complete  exposure  to  every  species 
of  injustice  and  oppression  ;  and  will  make  him  a  prey  to  the 
passions  and  the  avarice  of  a  selfish  world. 

To  which  I  answer,  that  the  principle  is  a  principle  of 
Jesus  Christ's, — plain,  unquestionable ;  and,  if  any  man 
thinks  that  some  other  principle  is  a  better  and  safer  one  for 
men  to  adopt,  there  is  a  difference  of  opinion  on  the  point, 
between  him  and  his  Master ;  and  though  he  is  perfectly  at 
liberty  to  pursue  his  own  course,  if  he  chooses,  he  can  not 
pursue  it,  and  yet  pretend  to  be  a  follower  of  the  Savior. 

But  it  is  not  true  that  this  principle  is  not  a  safe  one  to  be 
followed.  Jesus  Christ  understood  human  nature,  and  the 
influence  and  operation  of  moral  causes,  better  than  the 
shrewd,  suspicious,  watchful,  and  ardent  defender  of  his 
rights.  Any  intelligent  observer  of  facts  will  soon  come  to 
the  conclusion,  that  he  who  will  not  quarrel  for  his  rights, 
has  his  rights  most  respected,  as  he  who  is  unarmed  and  will 
not  fight,  is  safest  from  the  hand  of  violence, — and  every 
one  who  really  understands  human  nature,  will  see  that 
this  always  must  be  so. 

The  safety  of  a  man  who  will  not  quarrel  for  his  personal 
rights,  results  from  two  causes.  First,  the  course  which  he 
pursues  disarms  his  enemies.  Contentions  and  quarrels  ac- 
quire nearly  all  their  acrimony  from  the  influence  which 
each  combatant  exerts  upon  the  other,  by  their  mutual  and 
reciprocal  hostility.  Opposition  inflames  and  increases  the 
ardor  and  the  fierceness  of  the  attack.  The  conscience  of 
the  aggressor  is  really  quieted  a  little  by  the  thought  that  an 
antagonist  is  prepared  for  defense.  The  most  blood-thirsty 
Duelist  could  not  level  his  pistol,  unless  his  enemy  held  a 


OURSELVES.  107 


The  Indian.  An  objection.  The  question  of  war. 

pistol  too.  He  could  not  do  it ;  and  almost  universally,  the 
violent  and  the  oppressive  will  be  disarmed  by  the  quietness, 
and  peacefulness  of  the  true  Christian  spirit.  The  worst 
men  will  feel  the  influence  of  it ;  as  the  Indian  who  stood 
with  his  tomahawk  over  the  defenseless  missionary,  sleeping 
in  his  wigwam,  said,  after  gazing  upon  him  in  wonder,  at 
his  voluntary  exposure,  "  Why  should  I  kill  him  ?"  So,  in 
commanding  men  to  live  in  peace, — not  to  resist  evil, — or 
quarrel  for  their  rights,  Jesus  Christ  showed,  that  he  under- 
stood better  than  we  generally  do,  the  secret  springs  of 
human  action,  and  the  principles  by  which  human  nature  is 
controlled.* 

Xhe  minds  of  such  of  my  readers  as  are  not  quite  ready 
to  adopt  these  views,  have,  undoubtedly,  been  busy,  while 
reading  these  paragraphs,  in  calling  up  cases  where  those 
who  were  known  not  to  contend,  and  who  were,  consequent- 
ly, in  the  attitude  of  the  unarmed  and  the  defenseless,  have 
suffered,  and  suffered  severely. 

They  will  say  that  defenselessness  is  not  always  safety, — 
that,  though  the  duelist  will  not  fire  upon  an  unarmed  man, 
yet  the  assassin  will,  and  that  the  peaceful  and  the  unoffend- 
ing are  often  thus  a  prey  to  secret  injustice  or  oppression. 
This  is  true,  no  doubt.  And  the  question  is  not,  how  can  a 

*  We  do  not  mean  to  apply  these  remarks  to  the  forcible  execution 
of  the  laws,  by  the  proper  authorities,  nor  to  the  question  of  defensive 
war,  in  the  case  of  a  foreign  invasion.  The  precepts  of  our  Savior  to 
which  we  have  alluded,  were  undoubtedly  given  with  principal  refer- 
ence to  the  condition  of  private  Christians,  in  their  intercourse  with 
ordinary  society.  The  law  of  nature  and  the  law  of  God  combine  to 
authorize  men  to  form  organized  communities,  and  to  invest  such  com- 
munities with  the  power  to  enact  and  to  enforce  law.  The  manner  in 
which  Abraham's  promptness  in  interfering  without  divine  direction, 
for  the  rescue  of  Lot,  by  military  force,  is  spoken  of,  and  the  directions 
given  by  John  the  Baptist  to  the  soldiers,  who  came  to  hear  him,  and 
other  similar  passages  in  the  Scriptures,  conclusively  establish  this. 


103  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Occasions  of  contention.  Case  supposed. 

man  escape  all  injustice,  in  such  a  world  as  this,  and  avoid 
every  wrong ;  this  is  impossible.  The  question  is,  in  what 
way  will  he  escape  the  most  of  it  ?  The  mind  should  be 
busy,  therefore,  when  considering  this  question,  not  in  looking 
for  cases  where  the  peaceful  have  suffered,  but  in  inquiring 
which  class  succeed  best  in  avoiding  suffering  from  the  in- 
justice and  selfishness  of  men,  the  peaceful  or  the  pugnacious. 
We  will  abide  by  the  result  of  any  intelligent  and  honest 
observer's  opinion. 

But  this  brings  us  to  consider  the  second  ground  of  safety, 
for  those  who  will  not  quarrel  for  their  rights.  The  determi- 
nation that  they  will  got  quarrel,  makes  them  more  circum- 
spect and  careful  in  avoiding  all  occasion  for  disagreement. 
Nine  tenths  of  the  disagreements  among  men,  in  respect  to 
personal  rights,  arise  from  vagueness  and  indefiniteness  in 
original  arrangements,  and  might  have  been  avoided  by  pro- 
per precautions  at  the  proper  time  ;  and  when  a  man  adopts 
the  principle  that  he  will  not  contend,  he  soon  learns  to  be 
distinct  and  definite  in  all  his  business  engagements,  and 
thus  avoids,  by  prudent  forecast,  nearly  all  the  ordinary  occa- 
sions of  contention.  He  makes  all  his  bargains  and  all  his 
agreements  with  the  utmost  clearness  and  precision.  If  a 
certain  neighbor  of  his  is  quarrelsome,  and  unreasonable,  he 
treats  him  with  kindness  and  friendliness, — but  he  deals  with 
another  man.  When  a  case  occurs  by  which  his  interests 
and  rights  are  endangered,  instead  of  working  himself  into  a 
passion,  in  his  zeal  to  maintain  them,  in  the  particular  in- 
stance, he  calmly  examines  the  case,  to  see  how  he  might 
have  avoided  the  difficulty,  and  deduces  from  it  a  valuable 
principle  for  future  guidance,  and  thus  protects  himself  from 
a  recurrence  of  the  difficulty  in  tune  to  come. 

To  illustrate  what  I  mean,  let  us  take  a  very  simple  case  ; 
two  pedestrian  travelers,  of  narrow  finances,  engage  a  guide 


OURSELVES. 


109 


The  travelers  and  their  guide. 


THE    TRAVELERS. 


at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  to  conduct  them  to  its  summit. 
On  their  return  they  ask  for  his  charge,  and  find  it  double 
what  they  think  it  ought  to  be.  The  explanation  of  this 
diversity  is  this.  All  the  way  up  and  down  the  mountain, 
the  guide  has  been  thinking  of  his  remuneration,  and  won- 
dering what  it  will  probably  be.  Personal  interest  has  been 
pleading  all  the  way,  for  a  large  reward.  His  difficulties, 
his  fatigues,  his  dangers,  have  all  been  exaggerated,  and  his 
ideas  of  a  suitable  reward  have  been  rising,  and  rising,  until 
at  length  he  reaches  again  the  village  whence  the  expedition 
commenced,  when  they  stand  at  a  level  considerably  elevated 
above  the  proper  point.  It  must  necessarily  be  so,  for  before 
the  court  of  his  conscience,  only  one  side  of  the  question  has 
been  argued. 

With  his  employers,  the  case  has  been  just  the  reverse ; 


1  10  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  Christian  principle.  The  worldly  principle. 

and  they  descend  the  hill,  with  their  ideas  settled  at  a  point 
as  much  too  low,  as  their  attendant's  are  too  high,  and  when 
they  attempt  a  settlement,  they  find  themselves  separated  by 
a  considerable  chasm. 

Now  A,  acting  on  the  worldly  principle,  immediately  falls 
into  a  dispute.  Though  he  is  himself  as  much  in  the  wrong 
as  the  mountaineer,  i9e  sees  distinctly  the  bias  of  the  latter, 
but  is  utterly  insensible  to  his  own.  Hard  words  and  irri- 
tated feelings  grow  worse  and  worse,  until,  after  some  sort 
of  forced  adjustment,  they  separate  in  anger. 

But  B,  acting  on  the  Christian  principle,  retreats  from  the 
debatable  ground.  He  sees  that  this  debatable  ground  is  a 
region  of  uncertainty,  between  what  is  the  least  which  they 
themselves  consider  to  be  due,  and  the  greatest  which  the 
guide  can  with  any  plausibility  claim  ;  and  that  probably 
the  line  of  justice  lies  somewhere  within  it,  at  a  place  not 
easily  to  be  ascertained ;  and  he  accordingly  retreats  from 
the  whole  ground.  He  perceives  that  he  ought  not  to  have 
left  room  for  such  a  region  of  uncertainty,  and,  as  he  pays 
the  money  good-humoredly,  he  says  to  himself,  "  I  might  have 
known  that  it  would  be  so.  We  should  have  defined  our 
mutual  claims  beforehand." 

This  is  a  very  simple  case,  but  it  shows  the  principle  on 
which  an  immense  proportion  of  contentions  and  quarrels 
among  men,  arise, — just  as  the  little  currents  of  air  over  a 
heated  iron  plate,  on  the  table  of  the  lecturer,  exhibit  the 
principles  by  which  all  the  storms  and  tempests,  which 
sweep  over  oceans  and  continents,  are  controlled. 

It  is  thus.  In  the  various  relations  which  men  sustain  to 
one  another,  their  respective  rights  can  not  always  clearly  be 
specified  with  exactness.  There  is  between  what  is  clearly 
the  right  of  the  first  party  on  the  one  side,  and  what  is,  on 
the  other,  clearly  the  right  of  the  second, — a  sort  of  inter- 
mediate region  of  doubtful  character,  so  that  it  is  claimed  by 


OURSELVES.  Ill 


Way  in  which  quarrels  originate.  Our  Savior's  precept. 

each,  the  judgment  of  each  being  warped  a  little  by  his  feel- 
ings. So  that  in  almost  all  the  connections  of  business,  be- 
tween man  and  man,  their  mutual  claims  overlap  each  other, 
as  it  were,  a  little,  and  it  is  in  this  disputed  and  doubtful  ter- 
ritory, that  almost  all  the  streams  of  discord  and  contention 
take  their  rise.  Now  the  Christian  will  avoid  this  ground. 
He  will  generally  set  up  no  claim  to  it.  He  will  endeavor, 
by  wise  and  prudent  forecast  and  circumspection,  to  make  it 
as  narrow  as  possible,  so  as  to  leave  as  little  room  as  possible 
for  uncertainty  ;  but  when  such  gronnd  is  left,  he  knows  very 
well  that  the  selfish  shrewdness  of  the  one  he  deals  with,  will 
lead  him  to  reach  his  arm  over  to  the  further  boundary  of  it ; 
and,  unless  in  some  very  peculiar  case,  he  will  retreat  at 
once  to  that  boundary,  and  make  no  serious  attempts  to  secure 
any  thing,  but  what  is  most  unquestionably  his. 

It  is  a  good  plan,  whenever  any  subject  of  difficulty  seems 
to  be  coming  up,  between  you  and  any  man  with  whom  you 
have  dealings,  for  you  to  go  over  in  imagination,  as  it  were, 
to  his  side,  and  endeavor  for  a  moment  to  look  at  it  as  he 
does ; — not  as  he  ought  to  look  at  it,  but  as  you  know  he 
will, — possessing  as  he  does,  the  usual  feelings  of  human 
nature.  Now  the  encroachment  on  our  rights,  which  men 
of  the  world  are  thus  likely  to  make,  will  only  in  general 
extend  over  the  uncertain  territory,  which,  compared  with 
the  whole  amount,  will,  with  ordinary  discretion,  be  usually 
very  small,  and  it  is  generally  best  for  the  Christian  to  aban- 
don it  altogether. 

.  • 

"  If  any  man  will  sue  thee  at  the  law,  and  take  away  thy 

coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak  also."  This  may  not  mean  that 
we  are  never,  in  any  case,  to  contend  for  our  rights,  but  it 
certainly  does  mean  that  we  are  very  seldom  to  do  it.  It 
teaches  that,  at  least  as  a  general  principle,  Christians  are  to 
be  content  with  what  they  can  get  peaceably.  What  we 
can  not  secure  without  quarreling  for  it,  we  must  be  willing 


112  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Misery  of  contention.  Way  to  avoid  it. 

to  lose.  If  we  determine  beforehand  to  act  upon  this  prin- 
ciple, we  shall  plan  accordingly.  We  shall  not  expose  our- 
selves, and  in  the  end  shall  prosper  as  much  as  the  most 
sturdy  and  determined  vindicator  of  his  rights,  who  makes  it 
his  motto  never  to  demand  more  than  he  is  entitled  to,  and 
never  to  take  less. 

But  we  seem  to  be  considering  the  duty  of  not  quarrel- 
ing, whereas  our  subject  in  this  chapter  is  not  duty,  but 
happiness.  We  should,  therefore,  rather  be  attempting  to 
show  the  necessity  of  peace  with  our  fellow-men,  in  order 
to  secure  our  own  enjoyment.  Though  this  scarcely  needs 
to  be  shown.  A  man  can  not  be  happy  while  engaged  in  a 
quarrel.  The  rising  feelings  of  indignation  against  injustice, 
are  misery  to  the  heart  which  feels  them, — and  so  are  the 
whole  class  of  angry,  and  irritated,  and  vexatious  feelings, 
about  the  misconduct  or  petty  faults  of  others.  Never  yield 
to  them.  Expect  often  to  find  men  selfish  and  blind  to  the 
interests  and  rights  of  others,  and  make  it  a  part  of  your 
regular  calculation  to  experience  inconvenience  from  this 
source.  Then  you  will  not  be  surprised  or  vexed,  when  this 
inconvenience  comes.  Accustom  yourselves  to  look  upon 
your  neighbors'  side  of  the  question,  as  well  as  your  own. 
Be  desirous  that  he  should  do  well  and  prosper,  as  well  as 
you.  In  all  your  agreements,  be  clear  and  specific  before- 
hand, as  you  certainly  would  be,  if  you  knew  that  every  thing 
left  indefinite  would  go  in  the  end  against  you.  Where 
any  question  arises  between  you  and  another,  lean  toward  his 
rights  and  interests.  With  all  your  efforts  in  that  way,  you 
will  not  more  than  overcome  your  natural  bias  in  favor  of 
your  own.  If  there  is  any  doubt,  then,  give  your  neighbor 
the  benefit  of  it, — any  ambiguity,  interpret  in  his  favor. 
This  will  be  the  best  way  to  preserve  your  rights  most 
effectually ;  but  if  you  do  not  think  so,  if  you  fear  this 


OURSELVES.  113 


Repining  against  God.  Losses.  Disappointment*. 

course  will  lose  something  of  your  rights,  you  must  admit 
that  it  is  the  way  to  preserve  your  peace  and  happiness. 

2.  There  was  one  other  point  to  consider,  before  bringing 
this  chapter  to  a  close,  namely,  the  extent  to  which  men 
mar  and  destroy  their  happiness,  by  struggling  and  repining 
against  the  Providence  of  God.  Whatever  happens  to  you, 
if  it  is  not  the  direct  consequence  of  your  own  personal  mis- 
conduct, conies  through  the  Providence  of  God,  and  you  ought 
to  feel  that  he  has  sent  it.  Is  your  child  sick  ?  that  sickness 
comes  from  his  hand.  Is  your  house,  which  you  have  earned 
by  slowly  accumulating  the  fruits  of  your  industry  for  years, 
burned  by  the  carelessness  of  a  domestic,  or  the  malice  of  an 
incendiary  ?  It  is  the  same  to  you,  as  if  it  had  been  struck 
by  the  lightning  of  heaven ;  the  loss,  in  either  case,  comes  in 
the  Providence  of  God,  and  you  should  no  more  make  your- 
self miserable,  by  angry  resentment  against  the  domestic  or 
the  incendiary,  than  against  the  lightning. 

Do  you  experience  a  heavy  loss  in  your  business,  by  the 
fraud  or  the  negligence  of  a  creditor.  Bear  it  patiently  and 
submissively  as  from  God.  It  is  from  God.  If  you  have 
done  all  in  your  power,  by  prudent  circumspection,  to  guard 
against  the  danger,  then  you  are  not  yourself  responsible  for 
it,  and  you  should  not  repine,  any  more  than  a  child  should 
murmur  at  the  loss  of  a  plaything,  when  his  father  had  sent 
his  brother  or  sister  to  take  it  away. 

Many  people  think  that  they  have  a  right  to  murmur  and 
make  themselves  miserable  at  acts  of  injustice  which  they 
suffer  from  others.  They  feel  as  if  they  ought  to  submit 
calmly  and  quietly  to  those  ills  which  come  directly  through 
the  exercise  of  Divine  Power, — as  when  a  ship  is  lost  by  a 
storm  at  sea,  or  sudden  disease  arising  from  no  perceptible 
cause,  attacks  them,  or  when  their  business  or  their  property 
is  sacrificed  by  the  progress  of  a  pestilence,  or  unaccountable 
changes  in  the  times.  But  when  they  can  trace  calamity,  in 


114  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Joseph's  case.  Lesson  to  be  learned  from  it 

the  first  instance,  to  the  agency  of  a  fellow-man,  they  are 
disturbed,  and  irritated,  and  vexed,  as  if  God  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it  whatever.  But  the  agency  of  God  has  as  much 
concern  in  one  of  these  cases,  as  in  the  other.  He  has  as 
much  control  over  the  actions  and  feelings  of  your  fellow- 
men,  and  regulates  as  certainly  the  treatment  which  we  are 
to  receive  from  them,  as  he  does  the  force  of  the  winds  and 
storms,  the  progress  of  a  pestilence,  or  the  track  of  the  light- 
ning. When  Joseph  was  let  down  in  the  pit  by  his  brethren, 
he  was  as  much  in  God's  hands,  as  was  Jonah  in  the  storm 
at  sea.  So  Jesus  Christ  when  scourged  and  crucified,  bowed 
with  submission  to  his  sorrows,  as  to  sorrows  and  sufferings 
brought  upon  him  by  his  Father's  hand. 

Take  the  case  of  Joseph,  for  instance.  Suppose  he  could 
have  foreseen  how  his  history  was  to  terminate,  and  what 
would  be  the  ultimate  result  of  his  trials  and  sufferings,  in 
respect  to  their  influence  upon  the  posterity  of  his  father,  and 
upon  those  who  should  read  the  narrative  of  them,  in  the 
word  of  God,  in  all  future  ages.  How  would  he  have  felt, 
when  his  brothers  sold  him  into  bondage,  to  the  wandering 
sons  of  Ishmael  ?  Would  he  have  been  irritated  and  vexed, 
and  would  he  have  gone  away  into  captivity  with  a  heart 
boiling  with  rage,  at  the  injustice  and  cruelty  of  his  brothers  ? 
No ;  he  would  have  felt  a  calm  and  happy  acquiescence  in 
the  will  of  God.  He  would  have  felt  himself  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  his  Father,  who  he  knew  was  to  bring  ultimate  and 
lasting  good  out  of  his  temporary  sufferings.  And  so  will 
the  Christian  always  feel,  if  he  feels  aright.  He  will  carry 
about  with  him  continually  the  conviction  that  he  is,  in 
every  respect,  in  God's  hands, — that  nothing  comes  to  him 
but  in  the  providence,  and  as  a  part  of  the  plan,  of  God  to- 
ward him, — and  while  he  takes  every  precaution  to  guard 
himself  from  evil  and  danger,  yet  when  it  comes, — whether 
it  be  through  the  wickedness  of  man,  or  more  apparently 
through  the  direct  agency  of  God,  he  submits  to  it  calmly, 


OURSELVES. 


115 


Purposes  of  sickness. 


and  with  an  unruffled  spirit.  Unless  a  man  takes  this 
view  of  the  occurrences  of  human  life,  his  happiness  can 
never  he  on  any  sure  and  solid  hasis  in  such  a  world  as  ours. 
Perhaps  the  most  common  way  in  which  Christians 
struggle  against  the  Providence  of  God,  is  in  the  case  I  have 
alluded  to,  where  either  petty  trouble  or  serious  calamity 
comes  through  the  agency  of  man.  We  forget,  in  such  cases, 
that  so  far  as  we  ourselves  are  concerned,  the  trial  comes  as 
really  in  the  providence  of  God,  as  in  any  case  whatever. 
It  is  remarkable,  however,  that  there  is  one  case  of  suffer- 
ing which  most  plainly  comes  from  God,  and  from  him  alone, 
and  which  Christians  are  very  slow  to  submit  to.  I  mean 
sickness, — our  own  sickness,  or  that  of  our  friends.  How  few 
there  are  who  do  not  in  heart  struggle  against  their  Maker, 
when  he  comes  and  places  them,  or  their  friends,  upon  a  bed 
of  suffering.  But  sickness  really  comes  from  God.  We 
must  admit  this,  at  least  in  those  cases  of  disease  which  can 
not  be  traced  to  imprudence  or  indulgence  of  our  own.  If 
we  feel  this,  one  would  think  that  we  should  yield  to  it  sub- 
missively, and  bear  it 
patiently.  Suppose  you 
take  your  child  from 
some  work  or  play  in 
which  he  is  interested, 
and  ask  him  to  come 
and  sit  down  by  your 
side,  while  you  speak 
to  him  on  some  im- 
portant subject.  In- 
stead of  giving  up  the 
thoughts  of  his  former 
employment,  and  lis- 
tening attentively  to 
what  you  have  to  say, 
he  looks  eagerly  and  INSUBMISSION. 


1  16  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  sick  mother.  The  man  of  business. 

anxiously  away  from  you,  watching  his  companions,  and 
evidently  longing  to  be  restored  to  them.  You  reprove  him 
very  justly  for  his  inattention,  and  his  evident  eagerness 
to  be  released  from  your  hold. 

But  now  come  with  me  to  this  sick  chamber.  There  lies 
upon  that  bed  the  mother  of  a  family,  removed  from  the 
scene  of  her  labors  and  enjoyments,  and  laid  in  helpless  inac- 
tion upon  her  pillow.  Who  has  placed  her  there  ?  God. 
For  what  ?  Because  he  has  something  to  say  to  her.  Is  not 
sickness  a  providence,  that  is  intended  to  speak  to  the  soul  ? 
But,  instead  of  lying  quietly  resigned  to  God's  will,  and  lis- 
tening patiently  to  his  voice,  her  heart  is  filled  with  eager 
impatience  to  be  restored  to  her  family.  She  thinks  how 
many  things  are  going  wrong, — how  many  interests  will  suf- 
fer,— how  much  will  be  neglected,  while  she  lies  helpless  in 
her  bed.  But  oh,  thou  impatient  mother,  remember,  that  he 
who  brings  sickness,  is  to  be  considered  as  bringing  every 
evil  which  necessarily  follows  in  its  train.  If  you  repine, 
then,  or  murmur  at  any  of  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
your  removal  from  the  scene  of  your  labors,  you  are  in  heart 
struggling  against  God.  So  with  the  man  of  business.  No 
matter  what  inconvenience,  or  what  losses  come  upon  him, 
in  consequence  of  sickness.  He  ought  not  to  walk  his  room 
with  anxious  impatience,  nor  look  forth  from  his  window 
sighing  to  be  free  again.  He  ought  to  feel  that  when  God 
shuts  him  up  from  his  daily  duties,  God  takes  upon  himself 
the  responsibility  of  it.  Y7hatever  losses  are  suffered  come 
from  him.  It  is  the  patient's  duty  to  be  resigned,  and  to 
listen  to  what  God  has  to  say  to  him,  in  his  silent  and  soli- 
tary chamber. 

Perhaps  the  very  object,  for  which  the  sickness  was  sent, 
is  to  teach  you  resignation  to  the  divine  will.  Perhaps  God 
has  seen  in  your  conduct  a  dissatisfied  and  repining  spirit, 
awakened  by  a  thousand  little  circumstances  which  are  be- 


OURSELVES.  117 


The  sick  child.  Duty  of  submission.  The  responsibility  of  the  decision. 

yond  your  control,  and  which  you  therefore  ought  to  consider 
as  ordered  by  Providence.  Now,  perhaps  God  has  brought 
sickness  upon  you  for  the  sake  of  removing  this  fault.  How 
admirably  is  it  calculated  to  produce  this  effect.  How  irre- 
eistibly  must  a  man  feel  that  a  very  strong  hand  is  over  him, 
when  he  is  taken  from  his  sphere,  and  laid  down  upon  his 
bed, — all  his  plans  suspended,  or  destroyed,  and  no  human 
power  capable  of  restoring  him  to  activity  again.  One  would 
think,  if  man  could  learn  submission  anywhere,  it  is  here. 

The  same  principles  of  duty  should  govern  us  in  witness- 
ing the  sickness  of  a  friend  ;  and  of  all  cases,  the  sickness  of 
a  child  is  the  one  against  which  we  are  the  most  likely  to 
struggle.  There  are  thousands  of  parents  professedly  Chris- 
tians, whose  lives  are.  imbittered,  and  whose  peace  and  hap- 
piness is  destroyed,  because  they  can  not  really  trust  their 
children  in  the  hands  of  God.  Every  little  sickness  alarms 
them, — every  precaution,  whether  suggested  by  reason  or 
imagination,  is  taken,  and  the  mind  is  full  of  restless,  unsub- 
missive fears,  as  if  they  were  under  the  dominion  of  a  tyrant. 
Now  there  is  a  certain  degree  of  ordinary  prudence  and  cau- 
tion to  be  observed,  and  in  case  of  sickness,  there  is  medical 
skill,  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  may  modify  or  change  re- 
sults. But  after  all,  these  precautions  and  this  aid  will  go 
but  a  very  little  way.  The  invasions  of  disease,  especially  in 
children,  are  far  less  dependent  on  circumstances  within  our 
control  than  is  often  supposed.  The  development  of  heredi- 
tary tendencies,  the  mysterious  influences  of  atmospheric 
changes,  and  a  thousand  combinations  of  causes  and  circum- 
stances, not  to  be  controlled,  produce  them ;  and  when  they 
come,  all  that  we  have  to  do  is  quietly  and  calmly  to  pursue 
the  course  which  seems  best  adapted  to  promote  restoration. 
As  to  the  responsibility  of  the  result,  we  throw  ourselves  on 
God ;  and  let  him  &ojust  as  he  pleases. 

Suppose,  now,  there  should  be  a  mother,  always  uneasy 


118  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  mother  and  the  sick  child. 

and  solicitous  about  her  child  when  it  was  in  health,  or  sit- 
ting over  it  when  in  sickness,  restless  and  anxious,  trying 
this  remedy  and  that,  without  reason  and  without  hope,  just 
because  she  can  not  give  him  up ; — suppose,  I  say,  that  God 
should  come  to  the  bedside,  and  say  to  her,  "  Anxious  mother, 
— I  was  taking  charge  of  your  child,  but  since  you  are  so 
restless  and  uneasy  about  it,  I  will  give  the  case  up  to  you, 
if  you  will  take  it.  There  is  a  great  question  to  be  decided  ; 
— shall  that  child  recover  or  die  ?  I  was  going  to  decide  it 
in  the  best  way  for  yourself  and  him.  But  since  you  can 
not  trust  me,  you  may  decide  it  yourself.  Look  upon  him, 
then,  as  he  lies  there  suffering,  and  then  look  forward  as  far 
as  you  can  into  futurity, — see  as  much  as  you  can  of  his  life 
here,  if  you  allow  him  to  five  ;  and  look  forward  to  eternity, 
— to  his  eternity  and  yours.  Get  all  the  light  that  you  can, 
and  then  tell  me  whether  you  are  really  ready  to  take  the 
responsibility  of  deciding  the  question,  whether  he  shall  live 
or  die.  Since  you  are  not  willing  to  allow  me  to  decide  it,  I 
will  leave  you  to  decide  it  yourself." 

What  would  be  the  feelings  of  a  mother  if  God  should  thus 
withdraw  from  the  sick-bed  of  her  child,  and  leave  the  re- 
sponsibility of  the  case  in  her  hands  alone.  Who  would  dare 
to  exercise  the  power,  if  the  power  were  given,  or  say  to  a 
dying  child,  "  You  shall  live,  and  on  me  shall  be  the  respon- 
sibility." Then  let  us  all  leave  God  to  decide.  Let  us  be 
wise,  and  prudent,  and  faithful,  in  all  our  duties,  but  never 
for  a  moment  indulge  in  an  anxious  thought ; — it  is  rebellion. 
Let  us  rather  throw  ourselves  on  God.  Let  us  say  to  him 
that  we  do  not  know  what  is  best  either  for  us  or  our  chil- 
dren, and  ask  him  to  do  with  us  just  as  he  pleases.  Then 
we  shall  be  at  peace  at  all  times, — when  disease  makes  its 
first  attack, — when  the  critical  hours  approach,  by  which  the 
question  of  life  or  death  is  to  be  decided,  a^l  even  when  the 
last  night  of  the  little  patient's  suffering  has  come,  and  we 


OURSELVES.  119 


RastlOM  repining.  Summary  of  the  chapter. 

see  the  vital  powers  gradually  sinking,  in  their  fearful  strug- 
gle with  death. 

Besides,  were  it  not  so  much  pleasanter  and  happier  for  us 
to  submit  cheerfully  to  God,  it  would  be  the  height  of  folly 
to  do  otherwise.  Suppose  that  God  has  decided  that  it  is 
best  for  your  child  to  die, — and  has  come  into  your  family,  and 
laid  it  upon  its  bed,  and  has  admitted  a  fatal  disease  into  its 
system,  which  is  busy  at  its  sad  work  upon  the  vital  powers 
there.  Can  you  change  his  purpose,  do  you  think,  by  rest- 
lessness and  repining,  and  rebellious  anxiety  about  it  ?  No. 
That  is  the  way,  on  the  contrary,  to  accelerate  the  blow. 
Perhaps  your  want  of  submission  to  God  is  the  reason  why 
the  trial  is  sent ;  and  by  indulging  such  a  feeling  you  only 
demonstrate  more  fully  the  necessity  of  the  moral  remedy 
which  you  fear.  It  is  a  moral  remedy,  and  God  will  never 
be  deterred  from  administering  a  medicine  on  account  of  the 
impatience  or  resistance  of  the  one  who  needs  it.  No.  The 
wisest  and  best  thing  that  we  can  do  when  we  see  God  ap- 
proaching us  with  a  bitter  cup,  is  calmly  and  submissively  to 
take  it  from  his  hands,  and  drink  it  up.  If  he  perceives  this 
feeling,  he  will  administer  the  draught  with  so  much  tender 
kindness  that  it  will  lose  half  its  power. 

The  sum  and  substance,  then,  of  our  directions  for  securing 
personal  happiness  in  this  world  is  this  :  Make  your  peace 
thoroughly  with  God, — regulate  all  your  worldly  affairs,  and 
attend  to  them  industriously  and  on  system, — have  no  quar- 
rels with  men,  and  submit  cheerfully  to  all  the  dealings  of 
God.  Let  any  man  who  is  not  happy  take  hold  of  his  char- 
acter and  habits,  and  reform  them  on  these  principles.  Let 
him  do  the  work  thoroughly  and  honestly,  and  if  then  his 
peace  and  happiness  do  not  return,  it  must  be  that  he  stands 
in  need  of  medical,  not  mo»al,  treatment. 


120  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Common  idea  of  giving  to  the  poor.  Causes  of  poverty. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    POOR. 

"  Where  there  is  no  vision,  the  people  perish." 

THERE  are  a  great  many  persons  in  the  world  whose  only 
idea  of  doing  good  seems  to  be  the  act  of  giving  money,  or 
something  which  money  will  purchase,  to  the  poor.  Pecu- 
niary charity,  as  a  relief  for  physical  suffering,  they  appear 
to  consider  the  great  work  of  Christian  benevolence. 
Whereas  it  is  but  a  very,  very  small  department ;  and 
though  it  is  a  department  which  must  on  no  account  be 
neglected,  still  it  is  probably  one  in  which  the  labors  of  the 
philanthropist  are  most  discouraging,  and  least  effectual  in 
producing  any  ultimate,  useful  result. 

The  reason  of  this  will  be  obvious  upon  a  little  reflection 
on  the  nature  and  causes  of  poverty.  In  America,  and  prob- 
ably in  most  parts  of  England,  poverty,  by  which  I  mean  the 
absolute  want  of  the  necessaries  pf  life,  arises  in  a  vast  ma- 
jority of  cases  from  idleness,  mismanagement,  or  vice.  It  is 
the  punishment  which  Providence  has  assigned  to  each  of 
these  offenses  against  his  laws,  and,  as  in  all  other  cases,  you 
can  not  very  easily  abate  the  punishment  without  increasing 
the  sin.  Good  character,  industry,  and  prudence,  will  in 
almost  any  country,  under  almost  any  government,  and  in 
almost  any  condition,  find  a  cosafortable  subsistence.  Of 
course  there  are  exceptions  ;  exceptions  on  a  great  scale  pro- 
duced by  great  national  calamities,  and  on  a  smaller  scale  by 


THE    POOR.  121 

Exceptions.  An  example.  The  child. 

individual  sickness  or  suffering.  There  are  men,  undoubt- 
edly, the  utmost  efforts  of  whose  feeble  powers  will  not  pro- 
cure the  means  of  subsistence  ; — and  thousands  may  be  re- 
duced to  beggary  by  a  pestilence,  or  a  prevailing  famine,  or 
turned  out  of  employment  by  a  change  in  the  arrangements 
of  business, — or  reduced  to  the  extreme  of  hunger  and  de- 
spair in  a  besieged  city,  It  is  not,  however,  my  province 
here  to  speak  of  these.  They  are  beyond  the  limits  of  ordi- 
nary private  Christian  charity.  There  are  great  emergencies 
which  must  be  met,  each  by  its  own  appropriate  remedy 
which  the  statesman  must  devise  ;  or  they  are,  as  is  more 
frequently  the  case,  judgments  from  heaven  which  admit  of 
no  remedy,  perhaps  even  no  sensible  alleviation  from  the 
hand  of  man,  but  will  do  their  awful  work  to  the  full. 

These  instances  are,  however,  rare  ;  all  the  ordinary  cases 
of  suffering  from  poverty  are  produced  from  one  of  the  three 
causes  above  enumerated, — idleness,  mismanagement,  or  vice  ; 
and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  alleviate  the  consequences  with- 
out aggravating  the  cause. 

For  example,  let  us  look  at  a  very  common  case.  A 
woman,  apparently  in  the  most  wretched  condition  which 
imagination  can  conceive,  comes  up  to  your  door,  begging  for 
some  money  to  buy  food.  She  carries  a  child  in  her  arms, 
pale  and  sickly,  but  lying  quiet  and  passive  ;  it  has  too  little 
vitality  to  cry.  The  woman  is  really  fatigued  and  hungry. 
So  she  was  half  an  hour  ago,  and  she  stopped  at  a  house  at 
a  little  distance,  where  perceiving  that  she  was  not  observed, 
she  stole  a  pair  of  shoes,  which  instead  of  converting  them 
to  food  she  has  pawned  at  a  grocery  for  rum.  As  to  her 
hunger,  she  presumed  that  she  should  find  some  charitable 
person  to  supply  her  with  food.  The  child  is  not  her  own. 
A  guilty  and  inhuman  mother  has  given  it  to  her.  "  Given 
it  to  her  !"  you  exclaim.  "  What  can  have  induced  her  to 
take  such  a  burden?"  Because  it  helps  her  to  excite  sym- 

F 


122  THE    WAY    TO   DO    GOOD. 

Its  value.  Vice  and  misery. 

pathy  and  obtain  money.  Besides,  the  little  sufferer's  wasted 
and  emaciated  frame  is  not  heavy  ;  and  its  pale  and  sunken 
countenance,  and  hollow,  languid  eye,  gains  more  silver  than 
all  that  the  artful  woman  herself  can  say.  She  has  been  put 
into  an  almshouse  once  or  twice,  but  has  made  her  escape. 
She  prefers  the  roving  life  of  a  beggar-woman,  with  its  lib- 
erty, its  idleness,  and  its  rum.  She  generally  finds  enough 
good-hearted  but  weak  philanthropists  to  give  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  money  for  the  only  purchase  she  wishes  to  make  ; 
and  others,  who  will  not  give  her  money,  will  give  her  food 
and  clothes  ; — so  that  the  only  evil  she  really  fears  is  a  few 
hours'  interruption  to  the  supply  of  her  cup.  Habit  has  made 
any  barn  or  shed  a  comfortable  lodging  to  her  ; — she  has  bo- 
come  accustomed,  too,  to  the  burden  she  carries,  and  she 
has  slung  it  so  dexterously  that  it  presses  but  lightly  on  her 
back ;  and  when  the  little  sufferer  cries,  the  same  potion 
which  intoxicates  her  will  quiet  him.  The  potion  answers, 
too,  the  additional  purpose  of  perpetuating,  by  its  poisoning 
effect,  that  pale  and  sickly  countenance,  on  which  his  whole 
value  depends.  And  she  reflects  that  should  he  live,  and 
become  too  heavy  to  be  carried,  he  will  be  old  enough  to  beg, 
and  soon  after  to  steal ;— or,  if  he  should  not  be  an  apt  scholar 
in  learning  these  arts,  she  can  leave  him  by  the  road-side,  to- 
ward morning,  in  some  populous  village,  or  upon  the  city 
side- walk. 

This  is  the  kind  of  life  which  she  deliberately  prefers. 
Not  because  it  is  a  happy  one.  It  is  a  most  wretched  one. 
Her  days  are  spent  in  continual  misery.  Want  often  presses 
her  down  ;  hunger  gnaws  ;  cold  and  exposure  bring  frequent 
and  severe  suffering, — and  diseases  brought  on  by  vice  some- 
times stupefy  her  senses,  and  sometimes  torture  her  with  the 
acutest  pains.  And  more  than  all  the  rest,  a  guilty  con- 
science corrodes  her  heart,  and  completes  her  misery  by 
making  her  mind  as  full  of  sources  of  suffering  as  her  body. 


THE    POOR.  123 

What  can  be  done  ?  Effect  of  charitable  aid. 

She  does  not  prefer  this  life  because  she  is  happy,  but  because 
she  is  wicked ;  and  such  a  course  opens  the  widest  door  for 
the  indulgence  of  every  sin. 

Now  this  wretched  outcast  comes  up  to  your  dwelling,  in 
an  hour  of  real  suffering  from  hunger.  She  wants  bread 
for  herself,  and  milk  for  her  starving  child.  She  does  really 
want  it.  For  a  moment  hunger  has  overpowered  a  depraved 
and  insatiable  thirst ;  but  then  if  you  satisfy  the  one,  all  that 
you  do,  is  just  to  restore  the  miserable  victim  to  the  dominion 
of  the  other.  As  she  leaves  your  house,  after  having  been 
warmed,  and  clothed,  and  fed, — she  will  pilfer  something 
from  the  kitchen,  if  she  can,  and  go  away  imploring  Heaven 
to  bless  you,  for  your  goodness ;  and  at  the  next  bar-room, 
she  will  exchange  the  article  she  has  stolen,  and  the  flannel, 
with  which  you  have  wrapped  her  child,  for  something  that 
she  craves  and  will  have  at  every  sacrifice. 

Now,  when  such  a  case  presents  itself,  what  can  you  do  ? 
Nine  tenths  of  the  benevolent  portion  of  mankind  would  be 
deceived,  .and  would  profusely  relieve  such  a  case  of  suffer- 
ing by  money,  or  something  which  could  be  turned  into 
money, — not  understanding  the  case.  But  suppose  you  really 
understand  it,  what  can  you  do?  Will  you  remonstrate 
with  her  ?  You  might  as  well  talk  to  the  idle  wind.  Will 
you  clothe  her  child?  That  clothing  is  just  as  good  as 
money  to  her,  at  many  a  haunt  of  vice  :  and,  besides,  were 
it  not  so,  she  would  not  keep  such  clothing  on.  Clothing 
the  child  comfortably  would  spoil  it  as  an  instrument  of 
accomplishing  her  purpose,  and  rather  than  destroy  its  power 
of  awakening  sympathy,  by  having  it  comfortable,  she  would 
throw  your  gifts  away,  over  the  first  wall  she  passes.  Will 
you  turn  her  away  from  your  door,  then,  without  relief? 
She  is  actually  suffering  with  hunger,  and  the  lips  of  the 
helpless  babe,  too,  are  parched  with  thirst,  which  that  cup 
of  warm  milk,  standing  upon  your  kitchen  table,  would  so 


124  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  wicked  woman's  plan  of  life.  Treating  symptom? 

speedily  relieve.  No :  you  can  not  send  her  away.  Will 
you,  then,  supply  her  immediate  and  pressing  wants,  and 
those  of  her  child,  and  refrain  from  giving  her  any  thing 
which  she  can  pervert  ?  This  is  exactly  her  plan,  to  get 
from  the  really  benevolent,  food  and  occasional  shelter,  and 
from  the  unthinking  liberality  of  others,  or  from  theft,  the 
means  of  indulgence  in  vice.  This  is  exactly  her  plan,  and 
by  sending  her  away  from  your  door  warmed  and  fed,  you  do 
what  is  exactly  calculated  to  encourage  her  to  go  on  in  her 
life  of  sin. 

Still,  perhaps,  you  ought  to  do  it.  As  I  shall  presently 
show,  we  must  relieve,  if  we  can,  actual  physical  suffering, 
no  matter  where  it  is  found,  or  what  is  its  cause.  I  detail 
this  case,  thus  particularly,  to  show  how  many,  and  how 
great  are  the  difficulties  which  beset  the  whole  subject  of 
pecuniary  charity  to  the  poor.  Perhaps  my  readers,  espe- 
cially those  not  much  acquainted  with  the  world,  may  think 
that  this  must  be  a  very  extraordinary  case,  altogether  un- 
usual, and,  consequently,  one  not  to  be  safely  used  as  a  guide 
to  principles.  The  case  would  be  a  striking  one,  I  admit, 
but  not  strange  and  unusual  in  its  character.  It  illustrates 
strongly,  but  fairly,  I  believe,  the  general  character  of 
wretched  poverty,  in  almost  all  civilized  communities ;  and 
the  difficulties  so  obvious  in  this  one  detached  case,  are  sub- 
stantially the  difficulties  which  have  always  perplexed  the 
most  enlightened  philanthropists,  in  respect  to  the  whole 
subject  of  pecuniary  aid  to  the  poor.  Their  poverty,  their 
want,  their  hunger,  their  cold,  their  nakedness,  are  symptoms, 
and  symptoms  only ;  and  a  system  of  direct  effort  to  relieve 
these,  is  what  the  medical  profession  call  treating  symptoms, 
— a  course  which  must  sometimes  be  pursued,  but  which  is 
very  far,  usually,  from  having  any  tendency  to  promote  a 
radical  cure  of  the  disease. 

We  will  present  one  more  case,  which  gives  us  a  view 


THE    POOR.  125 


Another  scene.  The  little  beggar. 

of  the  same  state  of  things  in,  however,  a  little  different 
aspect. 

In  the  back  apartment  of  a  miserable  cellar,  in  a  crowd- 
ed street  of  New  York,  lives  a  collection  of  human  beings  : 
for  it  would  be  wrong  to  call  such  a  community  a  family. 
There  is  a  mother  there,  it  is  true,  but  all  the  other  relations 
of  life  are  obliterated  and  confounded.  During  the  day, — a 
cold  January  day, — the  miserable  hole  exhibits  a  scene  of 
riot  and  noise,  of  oaths  and  imprecations, — now  of  wild  un- 
earthly mirth,  and  now  of  malicious  rage ; — such  a  scene 
as  it  would  do  too  much  violence  to  the  feelings  to  describe. 
Their  means  of  vicious  indulgence  are  nearly  exhausted, 
and  to  replenish  them  the  mother  sends  out  her  child, — 
choosing  the  youngest  and  sickliest  of  the  group, — to  stand 
upon  the  cold  side-walk,  and  beg  of  the  passing  stranger. 
"  Say," » says  the  unnatural  mother,  "that  your  father  is 
dead,  and  your  mother  is  sick,  and  you  want  some  money 
for  medicine." 

The  child  will  not  go.  She  has  no  objection  to  the  false 
hood,  or  to  the  dishonesty,  but  she  is  not  inclined  to  obey. 
Then  follows  a  scene  of  passionate,  furious  contention,  be- 
tween an  angry  mother  and  a  willful  and  obstinate  child  ; — 
for,  from  the  first  moment  of  her  existence,  that  immortal 
mind  has  been  trained  up,  by  measures  and  influences  most 
admirably  adapted  to  produce  their  effect,  to  falsehood,  obsti- 
nacy, passion,  and  every  sin. 

Superior  strength  conquers,  and  the  weak  and  trembling 
child,  paler  than  usual  with  anger,  finds  herself  ejected  by 
force  into  the  cold  street,  the  bleak  wind  driving  upon  her 
uncovered  head,  and  blowing  the  snow  into  her  exposed, 
half-naked  bosom.  Do  you  think  she  feels  it  or  heeds  it  ? 
No  :  she  is  hardened  to  physical  suffering,  and  her  whole 
soul  is  absorbed  by  the  tumultuary  feelings  of  passion  within. 

She  walks  along  sobbing  with  vexation,  determined  still 


126 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Misery  not  innocence. 


not  to  submit  to  her  tyrant's  commands,  and  yet  knowing 
that  she  must  suffer  cold  and  hunger  many  hours,  unless 
she  can  carry  home  the  fruits  of  deception.  She  wanders 
instinctively  on,  until  she  reaches  a  street  where  she  might 
make  application  with  some  hope  of  success,  and  then  almost 
instinctively  accosts  the  first  well-dressed  stranger  who  passes 
by.  He  shakes  his  head  and  walks  on. 

A  small  boy,  smaller  and  weaker  than  herself,  approaches. 
He  is  returning  from  the  grocer's  at  the  corner,  where  he  has 
been  to  buy  some  bread,  and  he  brings  back  the  change  in 
his  hand.  It  was  but  a  step  from  his  home,  and  his  mother 
thought  she  would  trust  him,  though  the  wind  was  cold. 
Our  little  beggar  sees  a  shorter  way  to  gain  her  end.  She 
seizes  his  arm,  and  with  a  dexterity,  which  shows  that  this 
is  not  her  first  lesson,  she  wrests  the  small  silver  and  copper 
coins  from  the  little  messenger's  hand,  and  darts  ofF  round 


THE    DEOOAK    OIIiL. 


THE    POOR.  127 


The  return.  A  hopeless  case. 

the  corner.  The  boy  screams  aloud,  as  he  lies  crying  upon 
the  snowy  pavement,  where  the  violence  of  the  assault  has 
thrown  him.  The  passengers  turn  their  heads  as  they  pass, 
and  one,  with  more  feeling  for  the  sorrows  of  childhood  than 
the  rest,  stops  to  help  him  up,  and  to  ask  what  is  the  matter. 
But  sobs  and  tears  are  very  general  in  their  meaning,  and 
the  poor  boy  has  no  other  language  at  command.  In  the 
mean  time  the  thief  is  far  away. 

Holding  her  money  tenaciously  in  her  little  hand,  she 
walks  along,  till,  in  a  little  sunny  nook  in  a  back  yard,  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall,  she  finds  some  children,  wretched 
as  herself,  trying  to  play.  Though  the  water  drops  slowly 
from  the  icicles  above  them,  it  is  yet  cold  :  but  it  is  a  change 
of  miseries  to  sit  here  for  a  time.  She  joins  them  and  spends 
an  hour,  that  she  may  not  return  too  soon.  For  she  knows 
that  if  her  mother  should  understand  by  what  good  fortune 
her  supply  was  so  easily  obtained,  she  would  exact  a  double 
task.  The  increasing  chill  drives  her  home,  but  it  is  too 
soon.  Her  mother,  seeing  silver,  knows  that  she  has  adopted 
some  more  expeditious  mode  of  obtaining  it  than  begging, — 
and  snatching  her  booty  from  her  hands,  she  drives  her  out 
again  with  reproaches  and  blows. 

The  child  returns  to  her  post  and  stands  chilled  and  shiv- 
ering in  the  corner  of  the  streets,  until  at  length  she  gains 
the  ear  of  a  man  who  can  feel  for  human  suffering,  and  tells 
him  with  an  artful  air  of  artlessness,  that  her  father  is  dead 
and  her  mother  very  sick,  and  begs  him  to  give  her  a  little 
money  for  medicine. 

Now  what  can  money  do  in  such  a  case  as  this  ?  Sup- 
pose that  the  benevolent  man  who  listens  to  the  tale,  is  the 
wealthiest  man  on  earth  ;  what  can  he  do  with  wealth  alone 
that  will  touch  such  misery  as  this  ?  And  this  is  the  nature 
of  almost  the  whole  of  that  great  mass  of  physical  wretch- 
edness, which  has  been  for  a  century  accumulating  in  Eng- 


128  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Reflections.  Character. 

land  and  America.  This  case  may  be  a  strong  one,  but 
it  is  true  to  the  fact.  The  great  truth,  which  it  illustrates, 
is  one  which  should  affect  all  our  plans  for  doing  good,  or 
rather  the  whole  system  of  operations  which  we  attempt  to 
carry  into  effect.  Sin  and  misery  are  almost  inextricably 
mingled  in  the  cup  of  human  woe.  There  is  destitution  of 
comfort  and  depravity  of  heart,  and  they  both  exist  together. 
Each  perpetuates  the  other,  and  any  system  which  aims  at 
supplying  the  wants,  while  it  leaves  the  depravity,  is  only 
adding  new  fuel  to  the  fires  of  these  earthly  hells.  We  do 
not  present  these  views,  unquestionably  true  as  they  are,  to 
blunt  the  sympathies  of  the  heart,  or  to  lead  men  to  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  cry  of  suffering  poverty,  on  the  ground  that 
its  sufferings  are  all  deserved.  It  is  true,  indeed,~that  they 
are  too  often  deserved,  but  this  is  a  consideration  which 
should  not  lead  us  wholly  to  disregard  them,  The  only  way 
in  which  these  unquestionable  facts  should  influence  us,  is 
to  lead  us  to  look  carefully  at  what  is  to  be  the  ultimate 
tendency  and  effect  of  our  measures  of  relief.  In  fact,  there 
are  two  reasons  why  every  benevolent  mind  should  be  made 
clearly  to  understand  the  real  state  of  the  case,  in  respect  to 
the  subject  we  are  treating.  The  first  is,  that  they  may  be 
thoroughly  convinced  that  the  only  way  of  doing  any  real, 
and  substantial,  and  lasting  good  to  the  human  family,  is  by 
the  improvement  of  character.  .Character  is  every  thing. 
Let  this  be  right,  and  honesty,  industry,  and  prudence  will 
root  out  want  and  wretchedness  from  every  part  of  the  earth. 
But  leave  character  unchanged,  and  human  want  and  woe 
are  a  mighty  gulf  which  will  swallow  up  all  that  the  benev- 
olence of  the  whole  world  can  throw  in,  and  then  be  wider 
and  darker  and  more  awful  than  before.  And  the  way  to 
improve  character  is  to  bid  God  speed  everywhere  to  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  the  only  means  which  has  ever 
been  found  adequate  to  the  work  of  subduing  human  pas- 


THE     POOR. 


The  way  to  save  mankind.  Sentimental  feeling. 

sions,  and  securing  to  a  community  the  blessings  of  comfort 
and  peace.  Bring  men  back  to  God, — show  them  that  their 
aggravated  sins  may  all  be  forgiven,  enkindle  within  them 
the  hopes  of  a  happy  immortality,  and  let  them  see  in  the 
great  Mediator  between  God  and  man,  a  guide,  and  a  com- 
panion, and  a  sympathizing  friend  to  them,  in  all  their  sor- 
rows and  cares,  and  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  you  need 
have  no  more  fear  of  cold  and  hunger  and  nakedness, — you 
will  find  no  more  broken-hearted  wives  or  starved  children. 

The  second  object  which  we  have  had  in  view,  in  present- 
ing this  view  of  the  subject,  is,  to  impress  our  readers  with  a 
sense  of  the  importance  of  their  understanding  what  they  do, 
and  what  is  the  real  tendency  and  effect  of  their  measures, 
whenever  they  do  act  directly  in  the  relief  of  present  suffer- 
ing. They  must  understand  that  it  is  only  alleviating  symp- 
toms after  all,  while  the  real  disease  continues  to  rage  with 
unabated  power.  There  are  some  exceptions,  but  they,  are 
much  fewer  than  the  inexperienced  would  generally  suppose  ; 
and  even  when  we  are  aware  of  the  general  rule,  our  hearts 
are  very  prone  to  make  the  case  which  is  for  the  moment 
appealing  to  us,  one  of  the  exceptions.  There  is  a  sort  of 
instinctive  feeling  that  the  being  whom  we  see  suffering 
before  us  must  be  innocent.  Pity  is  cousin  to  love,  and  love 
to  moral  approbation  ;  and  where  the  first  comes  in  by  right, 
the  last  is  very  likely  to  intrude. 

Those  whose  benevolence  is  based  on  sentimental  feeling 
alone,  are  in  special  danger  from  such  delusions,  and  will 
often  do  injury  where  they  were  fondly  hoping  to  do  good. 
You  visit  a  wretched  house,  perhaps,  and  find  a  woman 
there,  who  tells  you  a  piteous  story  about  her  sufferings  from 
the  neglect  and  the  wrongs  endured  from  an  intemperate 
husband.  Her  story  is  plausible,  and  how  much  more 
readily  will  a  feeling  heart,  in  observing  the  unequivocal 
proofs  of  wretchedness  around,  believe  than  question  her 
F* 


130  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Some  cases  of  virtuous  poverty. 

story.  And,  then,  if  the  understanding  should  coolly  suggest 
that  character  generally  receives  its  direction  in  accordance 
with  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is  formed,  and  that 
the  abode  of  vice  is  not  the  place  where  you  would  naturally 
expect  to  find  a  virtuous  woman  ; — and  consequently  that, 
though  this  may  be  an  exception,  you  ought  to  be  cautious 
in  admitting  it  to  be  such,  without  evidence  adequate  to 
the  case ; — I  say,  if  the  understanding  coldly  suggests  these 
thoughts,  we  strive  to  banish  them  as  if  they  were  unjust 
and  cruel.  It  is  a  case  where  we  are  in  special  danger  of 
being  led,  by  the  heart,  astray. 

The  views  here  given,  do  not  apply  to  all  the  cases  of 
suffering  poverty  which  the  Christian  will  meet.  There  is 
virtuous  poverty,  though  it  is  rare.  The  industrious  and 
frugal  workman  is  kept  for  years  on  the  verge  of  want  by 
his  feeble  health,  and  his  increasing  family,  and  sinks  at 
last  under  the  .burden  which  he  can  carry  no  longer.  The 
virtuous  wife,  too,  is  deprived  of  her  earnings  by  the  brutality 
of  her  husband, — and  herself  and  her  children  suffer  all  the 
bitterness  of  want,  that  the  depraved  and  insatiable  appetites 
of  the  husband  and  father  may  be  supplied.  The  orphan 
child,  too,  is  often,  very  often,  left  friendless  and  alone, — to  be 
saved  by  Christian  charity,  or  else  to  go  to  utter  ruin.  I 
should  be  sorry,  indeed,  if  any  individuals  of  these  classes 
should  read  the  remarks  in  this  chapter,  and  imagine  that 
they  could  be  intended  to  have  any  bearing  upon  them. 
If  there  is  any  moral  spectacle  which  can  make  the  heart 
bleed,  and  bring  tears  of  compassion  into  the  eye,  it  is  to  see 
a  broken-hearted  wife  and  mother,  toiling  in  vain  to  procure 
food  and  clothing  for  her  defenseless  children,  and  to  shelter 
them  from  exposure  to  vice  and  ruin,  while  their  insane  and 
brutal  father  is  raving  in  the  streets,  with  flushed  cheeks, 
and  glazed  eyes,  and  muttering  voice,  during  the  day,  and 
turning  his  home  at  night  into  a  scene  of  terror  and  despair. 


THE    POOR.  131 

These  exceptions  rare.         First  direction.       .  Suffering  vice  and  suffering  virtue. 

And  then  to  think  that  for  such  ills  there  is  and  there  can  be 
no  earthly  remedy.  Our  sympathy,  our  aid,  our  encourage- 
ment may  give  a  little  alleviation  ;  it  is,  however,  but  little 
after  all.  The  bitter  cup  we  can  not  sweeten  nor  take 
away. 

These  cases,  however,  much  as  every  Christian  philan- 
thropist will  feel  for  them,  he  will  find  comparatively  rare. 
They  are  exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  that  want  is  ordi- 
narily the  punishment  of  idleness,  improvidence,  or  vice. 
Still,  to  relieve  want  is  an  important  part  of  our  duty,  and 
we  shall  devote  the  remainder  of  this  chapter  to  some  brief 
rules  and  cautions,  by  which  we  ought  to  be  guided  in  dis- 
charging it. 

1.  The  distress  must  be  relieved  if  possible.  Whatever 
doubts  and  difficulties  there  may  be,  about  making  formal 
and  systematic  preparations  for  taking  care  of  the  poor,  and 
however  justly  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  may  generally  be 
considered  as  the  result  of  their  own  improvidence,  and  vice, 
yet,  when  real  distress  actually  comes,  we  must  immediately 
do  all  in  our  power  to  relieve  it.  No  matter  whether  the 
sufferer  is  innocent  or  guilty.  No  matter  whether  he  has 
brought  calamity  upon  his  head,  or  is  suffering  ills  which  no 
foresight  could  have  avoided.  It  is  enough  that  he  is  suffer- 
ing, and  that  we  have  power  to  relieve  him. 

In  fact,  in  some  points  of  view,  suffering  vice  is  a  greater 
object  of  compassion  than  suffering  virtue.  In  the  former 
case,  there  is  nothing  to  alleviate, — nothing  to  sustain  or 
console  ;  but  the  heart  is  overwhelmed  with  the  sorrows  and 
sufferings  which  press  it  from  without,  and  yet  finds  nothing 
but  gloom  and  desolation  within.  For  a  man  to  find  misery 
before  and  around  him,  staring  upon  him  in  the  ruins  of 
what  was  once  a  happy  home,  driving  his  wife  to  despair, 
and  starving  his  children, — and  then  to  feel  that  it  is  all  the 
result  of  his  own  folly  and  sin,  must  be  wretchedness  indeed. 


132  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

A  caution.  Suffering  virtue  uncommon. 

If  we  can  relieve  it,  it  must  be  relieved.  The  Savior  has 
set  us  the  example.  We  must  stop  the  pain,  and  then,  by 
the  strongest  moral  means  which  we  can  bring  to  bear  upon 
his  heart,  we  must  bid  the  sufferer  sin  no  more. 

We  may,  therefore,  lay  it  down  as  one  simple  and  univer- 
sal rule,  that  when  we  find  suffering, — real,  unquestionable 
suffering, — we  have  no  doubts  and  queries  to  raise  about  the 
character  or  the  desert  of  the  sufferer.  Whenever  and 
wherever  we  find  it, — no  matter  what  is  its  cause,  or  who 
is  its  victim, — we  must  relieve  it  if  we  can. 

2.  We  must  take  care  that  we  correctly  understand  the 
case  ;  so  that  we  may  know  how  great  the  real  suffering  is. 
In  this  respect  we  must  guard  against  two  dangers.  First, 
being  deceived  by  the  sufferer,  and,  secondly,  deceiving  our- 
selves. 

First.  No  persons,  excepting  those  who  have  had  a  great 
deal  of  experience,  and,  together  with  it,  a  great  deal  of 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  of  shrewdness  in  under- 
standing its  movements,  can  form  any  conception  of  the 
extent  to  which  the  Benevolence  of  Feeling  is  duped  in  this 
world.  The  Benevolence  of  Principle  is  not  so  easily 
deceived.  That  there  must  be,  from  the  very  nature  of 
the  case,  such  deception,  any  one  will  see  by  a  moment's 
thought.  The  wretched  and  destitute  in  this  world,  as  has 
already  been  shown,  are  in  a  vast  majority  of  cases  depraved 
and  abandoned  in  character.  It  may  seem  harsh  to  say  it, 
but  every  one  who  has  had  an  opportunity  for  judging  knows 
it  is  true.  Virtue  suffering  real  want,  is  seldom  to  be  found 
excepting  in  poetry  and  fiction.  It  is  in  this  way,  that  this 
becomes  true,  either  it  is  vice  which  makes  a  man  wretched, 
and  brings  him  down  from  the  position  he  might  have 
occupied,  or  else,  if  the  inevitable  circumstances  of  his  lot 
bring  him  to  a  condition  of  wretchedness,  they  do,  at  the 
same  time,  as  the  world  now  goes  on,  expose  him  to  influ- 


THE    POOR.  133 

Artiflcee  of  the  vicious.  HypocrUy. 

ences  which  almost  inevitably  make  him  depraved.  When 
therefore  we  see  an  object  of  misery  coming  to  us  for  relief, 
it  is  very  unsafe  for  us  to  believe,  too  readily,  that  he  is  an 
honest  man. 

Still,  as  I  have  said  under  the  preceding  head,  this  is  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  be  relieved,  if  he  is  really  a  suf- 
ferer. It  is  no  reason  why  we  should  pronounce  him  a  bad 
man,  or  say  any  thing  or  do  any  thing  to  lead  him  to  sup- 
pose that  we  consider  him  so.  It  is  only  a  reason  why  we 
should  be  on  our  guard.  In  fact  we  ought  not  to  consider 
him,  as  an  individual,  bad.  We  ought  not  to  decide  the 
question  at  all,  till  we  have  evidence  which  applies  to  the 
particular  case.  Our  feeling  should  be  that  the  question 
whether  the  applicant  before  us  is  a  good  man  or  a  bad 
man  is  yet  undecided,  but  that  probably,  when  we  come 
to  have  evidence  on  the  point,  we  shall  find  that  it  will 
not  be  in  his  favor,  and  that  therefore  we  ought  to  be  on  our 
guard. 

A  volume  might  be  filled  with  details  of  the  contrivances 
of  artful  men  and  women,  and  of  children  taught  all  the 
practices  of  depravity  at  an  early  age,  to  feign  wretched- 
ness, and  at  the  same  time  to  assume  the  semblance  of 
virtue.  They  will  put  forward  into  display  every  sign  and 
indication  of  suffering  that  they  can  think  of.  They  inure 
themselves  to  hardships  that  they  may  exhibit  themselves 
in  the  endurance  of  them.  They  know  too,  generally,  that 
it  is  from  Christians  alone  that  the  suffering  have  much 
ground  of  hope,  and  they  soon  learn  the  language  of 
seriousness,  or  of  piety  itself,  that  they  may  awaken  a 
moral  interest  in  their  behalf  in  the  hearts  of  Christian 
benefactors.  They  can  talk  of  their  sorrows,  their  trials, 
their  temptations,  their  hard  struggles  with  the  ills  of  their 
lot,  and  by  means  of  the  confidence  which  the  language  of 
piety  obtains  for  them  in  the  hearts  of  others,  they  procure 


134  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Danger  of  deceiving  ourselves.  The  stage-driver. 

the  means  and  the  stimulants  which  carry  them  on  with 
redoubled  rapidity  in  the  career  of  depravity.  This  may 
seem  severe.  The  benevolence  of  sentiment  and  feeling 
will  perhaps  exclaim  against  it ;  but  the  most  experienced 
and  the  most  indefatigable  friend  of  the  suffering  poor,  will 
testify  that  it  is  true.  And  what  must  we  do  ?  Relieve 
the  suffering  if  you  can,  and  hear  attentively  the  story. 
But  suspect  all  mere  professions  of  piety,  or  even  of  a 
dawning  interest  in  it,  and  do  not  take  appearances  as 
evidence  of  the  real  extent  of  the  suffering.  Be,  in  a  word, 
on  your  guard.  But  never  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  complaints 
because  you  suspect  them  to  be  insincere,  or  refuse  to  relieve 
suffering  because  you  believe  it  deserved.  Vengeance  is  not 
ours.  The  more  intimately  sin  and  suffering  are  mingled  in 
a  cup  of  misery,  the  louder  is  the  call  to  the  Christian  to 
come  immediately  with  relief.  For  here  both  the  enemies 
against  which  he  is  contending  may  be  encountered  together. 
The  considerations  which  we  have  presented  should  therefore 
have  influence  only  in  leading  us  to  be  careful  that  we 
ascertain  correctly  what  the  real  nature  and  extent  of  the 
suffering  really  is,  and  not  to  postpone  or  to  neglect  relieving 
it  when  it  is  ascertained. 

Secondly,  we  are  in  great  danger  of  deceiving  ourselves  in 
respect  to  the  reality  of  the  suffering  that  we  witness.  We 
consider  how  much  we  should  suffer,  if  we  were  in  the  place 
of  those  whom  we  pity,  and  measure  the  extent  of  their  pain 
by  our  susceptibilities.  The  body  becomes  inured  to  hard- 
ships to  a  degree  which  is  surprising.  The  cold,  the  absti- 
nence, the  exposure  which  would  destroy  one,  will  be  borne 
by  another  without  any  serious  suffering.  A  stage-driver 
will  sit  upon  his  box  all  day,  without  seeing,  or  wishing  to  see 
a  fire  ;  driving  in  an  atmosphere  of  piercing  cold,  so  intense 
that  the  passengers  within,  though  protected  from  the  air, 
and  muffled  in  cloaks  and  furs,  can  scarcely  bear  its  extreme 


THE   POOE.  135 

The  power  of  habit.  Third  rule.  Danger  of  overdoing. 

inclemency  while  they  are  passing  from  one  blazing  tavern- 
fire  to  another.  How  often,  too,  have  we  seen,  as  we  have 
been  hurrying  along  the  streets  to  our  home,  on  a  bleak  win- 
try day,  a  group  of  boys  with  thin  clothing,  open  bosoms,  and 
bare  hands,  amusing  themselves  with  their  coasting,  or  their 
snow-forts,  hour  after  hour.  Many  a  time  does  the  tender 
mother  pity  her  poor  child,  playing  in  the  cold,  when  it  is 
all  enjoyment  to  him.  It  is  so  with  abstinence  from  food. 
The  human  constitution  adapts  itself  with  wonderful  readi- 
ness and  certainty  to  its  conditions,  and  learns  to  do  and  to 
bear  without  pain,  what  it  is  often  compelled  to  do  and  to 
bear.  Now,  let  no  reader  say  that  these  remarks  are  intend- 
ed to  deny  that  the  poor  suffer  from  hunger  and  cold.  They 
do  suffer  often  and  intensely — more  intensely  than  the  well- 
clothed  and  well-fed  dispenser  of  charity  can  conceive.  Still 
they  often  do  not  suffer,  where  there  is  every  appearance  of 
suffering  ;  that  is,  we  see  that  we  should  suffer  in  their  place, 
and  we  think  that  they  must  suffer  too.  We  ought  to  be 
aware  of  this ;  for  to  enable  us  to  act  wisely  and  judiciously, 
the  first  thing  is  to  understand  correctly  the  case,  in  respect 
to  which  we  are  going  to  act. 

3.  When  we  have  found,  thus,  a  case  of  real  suffering, 
and  have  taken  those  precautions  which  the  nature  of  the 
case  will  admit  for  correctly  understanding  it,  we  ought  to 
proceed  soberly  and  cautiously  in  measures  for  relief.  If  your 
feelings  become  deeply  interested  in  the  case, — and  if  your 
benevolence  is  rather  that  of  feeling  than  of  principle,  they 
will  be  very  likely  to  become  so,  by  the  influence  of  little 
circumstances  which  may  give  the  charm  of  sentiment  or  ro- 
mance to  the  affair, — you  may  make  a  great  exertion,  you 
may  enlist  the  feelings  and  efforts  of  your  acquaintance,  and 
you  may,  by  your  various  plans,  carry  your  measures  for  re- 
lief altogether  beyond  just  bounds.  It  is  not  that  you  will  be 
in  danger  of  producing  too  much  happiness,  but  that  by  over- 


136  THE    W.&Y    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Encourage  exertion.  Illustration.  Effects  of  profusion. 

doing  your  part  here,  you  may  aggravate,  in  the  end,  the 
suffering  which  you  intended  to  relieve.  How  you  will  be 
in  danger  of  doing  this,  will  appear  more  clearly  from  the 
cautions  given  in  the  two  following  heads. 

4.  In  all  your  efforts  to  promote  the  good  of  the  poor,  en- 
deavor to  encourage,  and  bring  out,  and  aid,  their  own  efforts, 
not  to  supply  the  place  of  such  efforts  by  your  charity.  Your 
principle  should  be,  not  to  carry  them,  but  to  help  them 
walk,  themselves.  Aid  them  in  their  own  plans,  and  aid 
them  too  as  little  as  possible,  consistently  with  relieving  them 
from  actual  suffering.  If,  for  instance,  a  poor  woman's  in- 
fant child  is  suffering  for  clothing,  do  not  make  a  full  supply 
of  such  clothing  as  you  would  desire  for  your  own  child,  and 
then  send  it  in  to  her  to  surprise  and  gladden  her  by  the  un- 
expected profusion.  By  doing  so,  you  will  indeed  produce  a 
momentary  feeling  of  surprise,  and  perhaps  gratitude ;  but 
you  go  so  far  beyond  what  her  own  exertions  could  hope  to 
reach,  that  she  is  discouraged  rather  than  aided,  in  respect  to 
her  own  exertions  for  the  future.  She  despises  the  coarse  and 
less  comfortable  supplies  which  she  can  herself  procure,  and 
by  spoiling,  in  her  view,  the  rewards  of  her  own  industry, 
that  industry  is  discouraged  and  depressed.  She  sinkfi  into 
idleness,  waiting  and  hoping  for  another  gift. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  you  find  the  poor  struggling  with 
poverty,  aid  those  struggles.  Ask  them  what  they  want, 
what  they  are  endeavoring  to  obtain,  and  aid  them  just  as 
much  as  is  necessary  to  enable  them  to  obtain  what  they 
want,  and  to  obtain  it  in  their  own  way.  Instead  of  sending 
them  a  new  bed,  give  them  aid  in  getting  the  old  one  mend- 
ed and  renewed.  Instead  of  removing  them  to  another  house, 
because  you  think  you  could  not  yourself  be  content  in  theirs, 
chow  them  how  they  can  make  their  present  cabin  tidy  and 
comfortable.  In  a  word,  instead  of  coming  in  at  once  with 
a  profusion  of  new  comforts  and  supplies,  to  produce  a  sudden 


•  THE    POOR.  137 

Danger  of  envy  and  jealousy.  The  benevolence  of  the  poor. 

emotion  of  wonder  and  joy,  help  them  a  little, — just  as  much 
as  is  necessary, — in  going  on  their  own  way,  except,  of  course, 
so  far  as  their  own  way  is  positively  wrong.  Thus,  by  aid- 
ing them  in  their  own  labors  and  plans,  you  encourage  and 
stimulate  effort,  and  make  the  little  aid  which  you  render  of 
lasting  benefit. 

5.  If  you  do  too  much  for  any  one  individual  who  is  suf- 
fering, you  will  excite  the  jealousy  and  envy  of  the  rest. 
Thus  you  will  cut  off  the  poor  from  the  sympathy  and  aid 
of  one  another,  which  is,  after  all,  of  more  value  to  them 
than  the  more  liberal  charities  of  the  rich.  Among  the  lowest 
and  most  degraded  classes  there  are  all  varieties  of  condition. 
There  are  gradations  of  rank,  of  influence,  and  poverty,  as 
decided  as  in  a  royal  court.  A  disposition  to  relieve  and  help 
one  another  exists,  too,  among  them.  Whenever  any  case 
of  extraordinary  suffering  occurs,  the  neighbors  flock  around 
the  scene,  partly  from  real  genuine  compassion,  and  partly 
from  that  mysterious  principle  in  human  nature,  the  love  of 
tragic  excitement,  which  other  classes  gratify  by  fiction,  they 
by  reality. 

Suppose  now  in  the  course  of  your  walks  of  charity  you 
come  to  a  wretched  habitation,  half  under  ground,  where  a 
woman  is  lying  sick.  Her  room,  if  room  it  may  be  called, 
seems  to  you,  as  you  enter  it,  entirely  destitute  of  every  com- 
fort. The  sufferer  is  alone  when  you  come  in,  but  she  is  by 
no  means  deserted.  Her  poor  neighbors,  as  you  would  call 
them, — though  as  their  daily  labors  bring  them  all  they  want, 
they  are  very  far  from  calling  themselves  poor, — have  come 
in  to  help  her.  One  has  lent  her  a  blanket.  Another 
brought  in  that  morning  some  wood  to  make  a  fire  for  pre- 
paring her  some  food,  and  then  extinguished  it  as  no  longer 
necessary  when  the  food  was  prepared.  The  room  looks 
cheerless  and  uncomfortable  to  you,  but  the  patient  is  not 
cold,  any  more  than  you  yourself  are  cold,  when  sleeping  in 


138  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  right  way.  Profuse  benefactions. 

an  unwarmed  chamber  in  a  night  in  January.  Other  neigh- 
bors come  in  during  the  day,  from  time  to  time,  to  talk  a 
little  with  the  patient  and  cheer  her  heart.  Thus  all  her 
real  wants  are  supplied.  The  appearances  of  suffering  which 
strike  you  as  you  enter,  are  only  the  general  circumstances 
of  her  condition,  to  which  she  has  always  been  accustomed, 
and  which  produce  no  suffering,  and  awaken  no  feeling  of 
discontent ;  and  she  is  in  fact  only  an  object  of  compassion, 
just  as  all  other  persons  are  who  are  sick,  whatever  may  be 
the  aspect  of  the  chamber  where  they  are  confined. 

The  wise  course  now,  in  such  a  case,  is  plainly  not  to  come 
with  a  profusion  of  aid,  so  as  to  break  in  upon  and  derange 
the  operations  of  that  neighborhood.  Just  encourage,  and 
aid,  and  help  forward  those  operations.  Sit  a  few  minutes 
by  the  bedside,  and  tell  the  patient  you  are  glad  she  has  so 
many  comforts,  and  that  her  neighbors  are  so  kind  to  her. 
Inquire  if  there  is  any  thing  in  addition  to  what  they  do  for 
her  that  she  wants.  If  there  is,  supply  her  as  much  as  pos- 
sible through  them.  Aid  one  a  little  in  obtaining  wood 
when  it  is  really  wanted.  Ask  another  whether  a  physician 
is  necessary,  and  if  so,  what  one  is  generally  employed  in  that 
neighborhood,  and  help  them  to  obtain  him.  Thus  strengthen 
and  encourage  and  aid  the  sympathy  and  charity  which  is  at 
hand,  and  on  which  the  sufferer  must  after  all  mainly  rely. 

Or  suppose  you  take  the  other  course.  Regardless  of  what 
has  been  done  and  is  doing  for  her,  you  come  and  break  sud- 
denly in  upon  the  system  of  kind  attentions  which  neighbors 
and  friends  had  arranged,  and  by  the  comparatively  profuse 
supplies  which  you  can  easily  render,  you  make  all  that  they 
had  done  appear  insignificant  and  worthless.  Soon  after 
your  visit,  one  neighbor  comes  in  and  finds  what  she  would 
call  a  rich  counterpane  upon  the  bed,  while  the  coarse  blanket 
which  she  had  made  considerable  effort  and  sacrifice  to  lend 
to  the  patient,  is  thrown  aside.  Another  enters  and  sees  a 


THE    POOR. 


139 


A  case. 


The  cabin. 


great  blazing  fire  upon  the  hearth,  —  the  little  stock  of  wood 
which  she  had  contributed,  and  which  she  had  been  frugally 
using,  all  consumed,  and  its  place  supplied  by  your  extrava- 
gant contribution.  They  see  immediately  that  the  case  is 
taken  out  of  their  hands.  They  were  helping  the  poor  trav- 
eler along  the  rough  road  of  life,  but  you  have  interfered  and 
taken  her  into  your  carriage,  and  they  can  not  keep  up  with 
you.  They  are  discouraged,  and  give  up  their  neighbor  in 
despair  of  helping  her  any  more.  The  feeling  is  worse  than 
that  of  despair.  They  will,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  look 
with  envy  and  jealousy  upon  your  profuse  benefactions,  and 
their  compassion  for  their  suffering  neighbor  will  be  turned 
to  dislike,  by  your  having  raised  her  above  themselves. 

A  physician  was  once  called  to  prescribe  for  a  sick  woman 
in  the  cabin  of  an  Irish  laborer  upon  a  Massachusetts  rail- 
road. It  was  in  the  depth  of  winter,  the  thermometer  rang- 
ing from  zero  to  twenty  degrees  below  The  rude  cabin  was 
made  of  posts  driven 
into  the  ground,  cov- 
ered with  boards,  — 
rough  upon  the  sides 
and  untrimmed  at  the 
edges.  Similar  boards, 
rudely  overlapping  each 
other,  constituted  the 
roof.  The  house  was 
banked  up  upon  the 
outside  with  turf  and 
stones  for  several  feet  ; 
but  above,  the  cold 
winds  of  the  winter 
whistled  through  the 
innumerable  crevices 
of  so  rude  a  structure. 


140 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Description  of  the  interior. 


The  physician's  visit. 


Within,  there  was  hut  one  apartment ;  a  fire  hurned  in  a 
corner, — the  fireplace  being  little  more  than  the  angle  of  the 
wall,  from  which  the  smoke  ascended  through  a  chimney  of 
loose  stones,  topped  out,  as  the  masons  say,  with  a  couple  of 
barrels.  Near  the  entrance,  two  short  posts  were  driven  into 
the  turf, — for  the  natural  surface  of  the  ground  was  the  only 
floor, — and  cross-pieces  nailed  from  one  of  them  to  the  other 
and  from  each  to  the  wall,  constituted  the  bedstead.  A.  cov- 
ering of  boards  answered  instead  of  cord  or  sacking.  The 
door,  if  it  may  be  called  a  door,  was  near ;  for  in  order  to 
leave  as  much  room  as  possible  for  the  numerous  occupants 
of  the  cabin,  the  bedstead  had  been  built,  though  probably 
not  in  anticipation  of  sickness,  as  far  as  possible  from  the  fire. 
One  cold  morning  the  physician  came  to  pay  his  last  visit, 
as  his  patient  was  decidedly  convalescent.  He  found  as  usual 
the  neighbors  around  the  bed,  in  a  wintry  atmosphere  utterly 
unaffected  by  the  fire,  in  the  remote  corner  of  the  room.  Pa- 
tient and  visitors  were 
however  all  talking 
merrily  together,  amus- 
ing themselves  with 
an  infant  child  lying 
by  the  mother's  side. 
After  making  the  cus- 
tomary inquiries,  and 
then  leaving  the  gen- 
eral directions  and 
good  wishes  which 
usually  attend  the  last 
visit  to  convalescence, 
he  was  about  going 
away,  when  one  of  the 
visitors,  who  lived  in 
just  such  a  cabin. 


THE    INTERIOR. 


THE     POOR.  141 

A  mediation.  The  wise  course.  Last  direction. 

walked  upon  just  such  a  floor,  and  slept  upon  just  such  a 
bed, — if  indeed  she  ever,  except  in  sickness,  enjoyed  the  lux- 
ury of  any  bed  at  all, — after  some  whispering  consultation 
with  the  others,  took  him  to  one  side  to  plead  for  a  moderate 
charge  in  the  way  of  fee ;  for,  as  she  said  gravely,  "this 
woman  and  her  husband  are  rather  poor,  and  have  hard  work 
to  get  along  !" 

Now  the  point  I  have  in  view,  in  introducing  this  scene  to 
the  reader's  attention,  is  just  to  make  this  remark  at  the  close 
of  it,  namely,  that  the  benevolence  of  blind  feeling  would 
have  refused  a  fee  altogether  in  this  case,  and  have  left,  be- 
sides, some  extravagant'  donation  in  money,  or  in  something 
else.  But  a  man,  benevolent  on  principle, — wise  and  cir- 
cumspect, would  have  done  just  as  the  physician  did  in  this 
case,  suffer  himself  to  be  persuaded  to  take  only  a  partial  fee, 
and  go  away  with  that, — leaving  the  patient  to  feel  that  she 
was  independent,  not  living  upon  charity,  and  the  neighbors 
to  see  that  through  their  friendly  intervention  they  had  done 
their  friend  a  real  service,  by  diminishing  the  charges  of  her 
sickness.  Fifty  dollars  could  not  be  expended  upon  such  a 
family  and  neighborhood,  in  a  way  to  do  more  good  among 
them,  than  that  effected  by  the  simple  influence  of  the  proper 
course  in  such  a  case  as  this.  So  much  more  important  is  it 
to  encourage  the  ignorant  classes  to  help  themselves  and  one 
another,  than  to  lead  them  to  lean  upon  the  charity  of  the 
wealthy. 

The  last  direction  which  we  have  to  give,  is  to  be  cautious 
in  regard  to  all  public,  known,  established  organizations  for 
the  relief  of  the  poor.  I  do  not  say  oppose  them  nor  refuse 
to  aid  them,  but  watch  them.  They  who  have  been  most 
intimately  acquainted  with  the  operation  of  all  systematic 
and  well-known  charities,  unite  in  saying  that  though  they 
relieve  a  great  deal  of  actual  want  which  could  not  have 
been  avoided,  yet  that  the  great  general  result  which  is  pro- 


142  THE   WAY   TO   DO   GOOD. 

Public  charity.  Its  abuses.  Cause  of  pauperism 

duced  by  them  is  to  lead  the  mass  of  the  poor,  that  is,  of  the 
idle,  the  dissipated,  and  the  vicious,  to  calculate  upon  their 
aid,  as  a  part  of  their  regular  resources  ; — and  to  enable  them 
to  carry  to  a  still  farther  point  their  idleness,  dissipation,  and 
vice,  without  being  called  to  account  by  that  stern  master, 
hunger.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  public  poor,  and  the 
beneficiaries  of  private  charitable  associations,  both  in  Eng- 
land and  America,  calculate  in  many  instances  almost  as 
much  upon  their  winter's  aid,  as  a  bank  stock-holder  does 
upon  his  dividend, — and  they  make  as  regular  an  allowance 
for  it,  in  the  industry  and  economy  which  they  practise  in  the 
working  season.  We  do  not  see  this, — we  hardly  believe  it 
when  it  is  proved, — so  strong  is  that  mysterious  delusion  by 
which  we  always  connect  the  idea  of  innocence  with  that  of 
suffering.  But  the  influence  of  all  well-known, and  public 
arrangements  for  distributing  to  the  necessities  of  the  able- 
bodied  poor,  is  unquestionably  of  this  sort,  and  they  demand 
the  most  careful  attention.  These  arrangements  are  indeed 
sometimes  needed.  But  they  ought  not  to  be  needed  in  any 
country.  There  must  be  something  wrong  in  the  state  of 
society  where  they  are  demanded,  and  statesmen  and  philan- 
thropists should  set  themselves  at  work  to  discover  and  cor- 
rect this  wrong,  rather  than  vainly  to  attempt  to  remove  the 
symptomatic  sufferings  which  come  from  it. 

If  in  any  community  there  are  large  masses  of  the  population 
who  can  not  by  their  labor  procure  their  support,  it  is  plain 
that  this  must  be  owing  to  something  wrong  in  the  constitu- 
tion and  condition  of  society  there ;  for  the  products  of  the 
general  industry  are  amply  sufficient  for  the  general  support. 
There  can  be  no  question  that  the  cultivated  portions  of  the 
earth,  do  or  might  produce  a  very  plentiful  supply,  both  of 
food  and  clothing,  for  all  the  inhabitants.  If,  therefore,  any 
go  unsupplied,  it  must  be  either  that  they  can  not  labor  to 


THE    POOE.  143 

Its  remedy.  Too  much  ignorant  labor. 

advantage,  or  that  they  are,  by  faulty  institutions  or  customs, 
deprived  of  their  just  and  fair  reward. 

The  ignorant  can  not  work  to  advantage,  because  in  most 
civilized  communities  at  the  present  day,  there  is  too  much 
ignorant  labor  to  supply  the  demand.  To  carry  forward  the 
operations  of  society  by  which  food  and  clothing  are  produced, 
manufactured,  transported,  and  exchanged,  there  is  demand- 
ed a  certain  amount  of  intelligence,  a  certain  amount  of  in- 
ventive power,  a  certain  amount  of  manual  dexterity,  and  a 
certain  amount  of  mere  labor.  If  there  is  an  undue  supply 
of  either  of  these,  the  reward  for  that  which  is  in  excess, 
must  sink ;  for  the  fair  proportion  of  the  product  of  the  com- 
mon industry  will  in  effect  fall  to  each  class,  and  must  be 
divided  among  them  ;  and  where  the  claimants  are  numer- 
ous, the  dividend  must  be  small.  Now  the  market  for  labor, 
almost  throughout  the  civilized  world,  is  glutted,  while  the 
demand  for  skill  and  intelligence  is  but  moderately  supplied. 
The  reason  is,  that  vast  numbers  have  let  themselves  sink 
by  their  vices  to  ignorance  and  degradation,  where  they  can 
do  nothing  but  labor ;  and  society  have  allowed  the  mighty 
mass  to  accumulate,  by  not  making  proper  efforts  to  save 
their  children.  While  thus  the  supply  of  mere  muscular 
force  has  been  increasing,  the  demand  has  been  diminishing, 
for  the  progress  of  civilization  is  continually  finding  ways  of 
accomplishing  by  the  intelligence  and  skill  of  the  few,  what 
was  before  effected  by  the  blind  labor  of  the  many.  This 
double  influence  has  gone  on  until  at  length,  in  England, 
while  the  means  of  comfort  and  happiness  among  the  upper 
classes  of  society  are  as  abundant  as  they  are  in  any  part  of 
the  world,  there  are  far  more  than  enough  of  the  ignorant 
and  degraded  who  can  do  nothing  but  labor,  to  do  all  the 
labor  there  is  to  be  done.  The  consequence  is  their  pay  is 
reduced  to  the  very  lowest  extreme,  through  a  competition 
sharpened  by  hunger,  and  urged  on  by  despair ;  and  still 


144  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Conclusion. 

there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  who  must  be  fed  by  the  pub- 
lic or  starve.  Common  sense  points  out  the  remedy.  En- 
lightening and  educating  them,  and  their  children,  so  as  to 
raise  a  portion  of  them  from  the  ranks  of  mere  blind,  igno- 
rant laborers,  where  they  are  not  wanted,  to  spheres  of  action 
where  they  can  sustain  themselves,  and  promote  the  general 
welfare  by  intelligence  and  skill. 

In  a  word,  poverty  and  sufFering  in  this  world  are  gener- 
ally only  the  symptoms  of  ignorance  and  sin.  Let  us  miti- 
gate the  symptoms  where  they  are  severe.  It  is  our  imperi- 
ous duty  to  do  so.  But  the  great  object  to  be  accomplished 
is  to  cure  the  disease. 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETV.  145 

Connection  between  sin  and  suffering. 


CHAPTER   V. 

PROMOTION  OF  PERSONAL  PIETY. 

"  He  that  converteth  the  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  ways,  shall  save  a  soul  from 
death,  and  hide  a  multitude  of  sins." 

IT  seems  thus,  from  what  we  have  said  in  the  last  chapter, 
that  we  can  not  sunder  the  connection  between  sin  and  suffer- 
ing ;  and  there  is  a  little  additional  light  thrown  upon  our 
duty  in  respect  to  the  way  to  do  good  in  this  world,  by  the 
circumstance  that  God  who  can,  will  not.  He  might  easily 
and  at  once,  put  a  final  end  to  all  the  miseries  which  men 
are  everywhere  bringing  upon  themselves  by  their  sins. 
How  readily  might  he,  by  a  word,  restore  every  broken 
constitution, — and  bring  back  to  prosperity  every  wretched 
and  ruined  family, — and  heal  every  corroding  and  cankering 
disease, — and  quiet  the  agitations  of  remorse  and  despair. 
But  he  will  not.  He  has  chosen  to  connect  by  the  most 
fixed  and  steady  laws,  suffering  with  sin,  and  it  is  remark- 
able how  exclusively  all  his  plans  of  doing  good  to  men  go, 
for  their  object,  toward  removing  the  cause,  and  not  toward 
disturbing  this  established  connection  between  cause  and 
consequence.  He  has  determined  that  the  way  of  transgres- 
sion must  be  hard.  If  man  breaks  his  laws  and  lives  in  sin, 
he  will  not  relieve  him  of  the  penalties,  and  he  puts  it  utter- 
ly out  of  our  power  to  afford  any  effectual  relief.  Thus  he 
cuts  off  from  man  all  hope  of  happiness  except  from  the 
abandonment  of  sin. 

G 


146  THE    WAV    TO    DO    GOOD 

Divine  and  human  benevolence.  Expectations  of  the  young. 

There  is  thus  a  great  difference  between  human  philan- 
thropy and  divine  philanthropy  in  their  way  of  working. 
Men  are  always  attempting  to  stop  suffering  directly.  God's 
plans  are  always  aimed  against  sin.  God  sends  prophets 
and  preachers  to  teach.  He  publishes  his  commands.  He 
makes  known  his  threatenings.  .  He  displays  conspicuously 
on  this  theater  the  moral  example  of  his  Son.  He  gives  the 
innocent  victim  to  death  to  make  atonement  for  our  sins,  and 
by  his  Spirit  gently  draws  the  heart  to  penitence  and  sub- 
mission. Man,  on  the  other  hand,  establishes  the  public 
infirmary, — gives  money  to  the  vicious  beggar, — provides 
publicly  for  the  poor, — and  builds  the  foundling  hospital. 
Let  no  one  understand  me  to  say  that  these  things  are  wrong. 
Some  are  undoubtedly  right,  and  others  may  be  wrong.  It 
is  most  plainly  our  duty  to  do  the  little  that  we  can  to  alle- 
viate the  sorrows  and  sufferings  of  humanity,  even  if  these 
sorrows  are  caused  by  sin.  All  we  mean  here  to  say  is  that 
we  are  prone,  very  prone,  to  turn  our  attention  too  exclu- 
sively to  such  efforts,  though  they  must  be  extremely  limited 
in  their  success,  and  must  often  create  far  more  misery  than 
they  relieve.  The  great  work  of  benevolence  in  this  world, 
is  the  work  of  co-operating  with  God  in  attempting  to  RE- 
DEEM THE  HUMAN  RACE  FROM  ITS  SINS. 

The  young  readers,  for  whom  this  book  is  principally  in- 
tended, will  doubtless  feel  somewhat  surprised  and  perhaps 
a  little  disappointed  at  this  view  of  the  case.  In  early  life 
wt  look  upon  the  relief  of  bodily  suffering  as  the  great  way 
of  doing  good,  and  we  regard  money  as  the  most  power- 
ful and  ready  means  of  effecting  it.  If  we  feel  any  benev- 
olent desires,  they  flow  out  in  this  channel,  and  we  look  for- 
ward with  eager  interest  to  the  time  when  we  shall  possess 
means  of  our  own  for  the  accomplishment  of  such  plans.  If 
there  are  such  among  our  readers,  they  will  feel  disappointed 
and  discouraged  by  the  representations  which  were  made  in 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  147 

The  only  way  to  do  real  and  permanent  good. 

the  last  chapter.  But  the  representations,  though  discourag- 
ing, are  true.  The  more  you  reflect  upon  it,  the  more  you 
will  be  satisfied  that  God  has  so  arranged  the  circumstances 
of  human  life,  and  so  intimately  and  inextricably  intertwined 
moral  and  physical  evil,  that  the  latter  admits  of  no  separate 
remedy. 

If,  then,  you  wish  to  devote  your  life  to  the  work  of  doing 
good,  you  must  devote  it  to  a  warfare  against  sin.  You  can 
do  nothing  effectual  in  any  other  way.  You  may  as  well 
attempt  to  hold  back  the  tides  of  the  ocean,  or  to  exclude  in- 
sects from  the  forest,  or  clouds  from  the  sky,  as  to  fence  off 
hunger,  and  loathsome  disease,  and  squalid  misery,  from  a 
community  filled  with  sin.  On  the  other  hand,  make  the 
most  wretched  outcast  in  the  world,  whose  sufferings  are 
caused  by  his  vice,  a  Christian,  and  the  work  is  done.  No 
matter  for  your  alms,  his  faith  will  save  him.  Regeneration 
cuts  up  the  root  of  wretchedness,  and  every  bitter  fruit  will 
soon  disappear.  The  ragged,  hungry,  diseased,  and  miserable 
vagabond  will  soon  be  found  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind. 
Temperance  and  purity  will  restore  his  health,  and  industry 
and  frugality  will  supply  every  need ; — and  the  wretched 
suppliant  for  relief  which  he  never  could  receive,  will  become 
the  possessor  of  independent  happiness,  and  the  dispenser  of 
enjoyment  to  a  little  circle  around  him. 

As  we  have  already  remarked,  this  should  not  prevent  our 
doing  the  little  that  we  can  to  give  temporary  relief  to  the 
sorrows  and  sufferings  of  men.  We  must  not  leave  even 
guilt  to  bear  its  burdens,  with  the  stern  reproach  that  it  de- 
serves them  all.  We  must  feed  the  hungry,  and  clothe  the 
naked,  and  visit  the  sick,  and  do  them  all  the  good  in  our 
power.  No  person  who  reads  the  precepts  or  observes  the 
example  of  Jesus  Christ,  can  possibly  doubt  this.  Still  we 
must  remember  that  after  we  have  done  all  that  we  can  in 
this  way,  we  have,  in  fact,  done  comparatively  nothing. 


148  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Power  of  moral  sympathy.  Experiment  with  a  child. 

\ 

The  great  source  of  the  difficulty  remains  untouched,  and  we 
accomplish  nothing  effectual  or  permanent  for  the  good  of 
man,  except  so  far  as  we  promote  his  salvation  from  sin. 

We  come  now,  therefore,  to  consider  the  great  means  by 
which  this  is  to  be  done. 

Our  Savior's  plan  for  the  extension  of  Christianity  in  the 
world,  was,  that  the  spirit  of  piety  should  spread  from  heart 
to  heart,  by  a  sort  of  moral  contagion.  There  was  provision 
made,  it  is  true,  for  argument  to  convince,  and  instruction  to 
enlighten,  and  threatenings  to  awe  mankind ;  but  from  the 
whole  tenor  of  the  Savior's  preaching,  and  his  whole  course 
of  conduct,  it  is  plain  that  he  relied  mostly  upon  that  practi- 
cal manifestation  of  the  power  of  religion  which  he  himself 
and  his  disciples  were  to  make  to  men.  The  various  meta- 
phors which  he  used  all  indicate  how  much  he  expected  from 
the  moral  influence  of  a  bright  Christian  example.  It  is  sur- 
prising what  an  influence  man  has  over  man,  by  the  mere 
contagion  of  moral  feeling.  Such  is  human  nature,  that  the 
mere  existence  and  exhibition  of  a  feeling,  right  or  wrong,  in 
one  heart,  awakens  its  like  in  the  hearts  that  are  around  it. 
A  good  sentiment,  or  a  bad  one  is  spread  among  men  by  the 
simple  expression  of  it,  more  than  by  the  reasoning  by  which 
it  is  supported.  Men  catch  the  spirit  of  it,  and  their  hearts 
vibrate  in  unison ;  as  one  cord,  though  untouched,  echoes 
back  the  musical  tune  that  is  sounded  by  another. 

Few  persons  understand  how  great  this  influence  is,  which 
heart  exerts  over  heart  by  moral  sympathy.  And  yet  you 
can  easily  see,  by  many  simple  experiments,  how  much 
stronger  it  is  than  the  power  of  cold  argument,  or  the  influ- 
ence of  a  calculation  on  rewards  or  punishments  to  come. 
We  can,  as  usual  with  moral  experiments,  test  it  most  easily 
with  a  child.  Suppose  his  mother  is  sick  in  her  bed-room, 
and  you  wish  him  to  be  quiet  and  still,  that  she  may  rest ;  or 


PROMOTION   OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  149 

The  power  of  persuasion  and  of  sympathy  compared. 

rather,  you  do  not  merely  wish  to  produce  silence  mechanical- 
ly, but  you  wish  to  awaken  such  a  feeling  of  love  and  inter- 
est and  sympathy  for  his  mother,  in  the  mind  of  the  child, 
that  he  shall  take  pleasure  in  being  still.  Now  you  may  try 
two  methods.  First,  argument  and  pers'uasion  ;  you  may 
call  him  to  your  side,  and  tell  him  how  sick  his  mother  is, 
— how  kind  she  has  always  been  to  him  when  he  was  sick, — 
how  greatly  noise  disturbs  her,  and  how  clearly  it  is  his  duty 
to  avoid  increasing  her  sickness  or  her  suffering.  You  may, 
perhaps,  by  such  a  conversation,  produce  a  slight  momentary 
impression ;  but  you  will  more  probably  find  by  the  ill-con- 
cealed restlessness  and  the  wandering  looks  of  your  pupil, 
that  your  labor  is  in  vain. 

Now  try  the  power  of  moral  sympathy.  Take  your  little 
pupil  by  the  hand,  and  say  to  him,  "  Come,  we  will  go  and 
see  mother."  As  you  lead  him  by  slow  steps,  up  the  stair- 
case, talk  thus.  You  will  observe  that  it  is  not  reasoning  or 
persuasion,  but  only  an  audible  expression  of  your  own  feel- 
ings, intended  to  awaken,  by  the  power  of  sympathy,  similar 
feelings  in  him. 

"  Poor  mother  !  I  am  sorry  she  is  sick.  We  will  walk 
very  carefully  and  softly,  so  as  not  to  disturb  her.  I  will 
open  the  door  very  gently.  There," — (in  a  very  gentle  and 
subdued  tone  ;) — "  she  will  hardly  know  that  we  are  coming. 
We  will  not  disturb  poor  mother.  I  hope  she  will  get  well  ; 
we  will  be  kind  to  her  and  be  still,  so  that  she  may  soon  get 
well." 

They  who  have  observed  the  character  and  feelings  of  the 
human  heart,  as  exhibited  in  childhood,  will  understand  how 
readily  the  little  pupil,  as  he  is  walking  up  the  stairs,  will 
catch  the  spirit  exhibited  so  near  him.  His  loud  step  will 
be  hushed  into  the  most  cautious  tread.  His  boisterous  voice 
will  subside  to  a  low  murmuring  sound,  and  he  will  stand,  at 
last,  by  his  mother's  bedside,  full,  for  the  moment  at  least,  of 


150  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  children  in  a  thunder-storm.  Light;  salt;  leaven. 

the  feelings  of  love,  and  compassion,  and  interest,  which  you 
wish  to  awaken.  You  have  awakened  them  simply  by  the 
power  of  moral  sympathy.  You  brought  his  heart  near  to 
yours,  and  kindled  his  by  the  flame  that  was  in  your  own. 

It  is  so  with  men  as  well  as  with  children.  They  catch 
the  spirit  of  moral  feeling  from  one  another,  to  an  extent  of 
which  the  great  mass  of  mankind  have  a  very  inadequate 
conception.  It  is  so,  too,  with  almost  every  kind  of  feeling. 

Let  a  father  come  home  among  his  terrified  children,  in  a 
thunder-storm,  and  without  his  saying  a  word,  his  look  of 
calm  composure,  and  his  quiet  air  will  reassure  them  all.  It 
will  do  far  more  than  words.  Nay,  argument  and  reason- 
ing would  only  interfere  with  its  effect.  Far  the  wisest  course, 
in  such  a  case,  if  the  father  perceived  that  his  children  were 
terrified,  would  be  to  say  not  a  word  about  safety ;  but  while 
talking  of  other  things,  to  depend  upon  the  children's  catch- 
ing the  spirit  of  composure  from  him.  Fear  will  spread  thus, 
too,  as  well  as  courage.  On  the  field  of  battle,  when  a  few 
are  thoroughly  terrified,  it  is  a  most  desperate  effort  only, 
which  can  prevent  universal  panic  and  flight.  It  is  not  that 
the  danger  is  greater,  or  that  it  is  better  understood  ; — but 
that  human  hearts,  when  together,  tend  strongly  to  beat  in 
unison,  and  where  some  go  wrong,  they  draw  on  others  to 
ruin  with  them,  by  this  mysterious  contagion. 

The  contest  which  is  going  on  in  the  world,  between  good 
and  evil,  is  a  contest  of  feeling,  more  than  one  of  argument. 
Bad  principles  and  bad  passions  spread  by  the  direct  action 
of  heart  upon  heart,  and  good  principles,  and  benevolent  and 
holy  emotions,  appeal  in  the  same  way  to  the  consciences  of 
men,  with  far  greater  power  than  any  other  moral  causes. 
This  is  the  reason  why  our  Savior  laid  so  much  stress  upon 
the  power  and  influence  of  Christian  example.  His  followers 
were  to  be  the  light  of  the  world.  They  were  to  be  the  salt 
which  purifies  and  saves  by  its  presence,  and  by  its  direct 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  151 

The  Savior's  moral  power.  Sermons.  The  mother. 

and  salutary  action.  They  were  to  be  the  leaven,  which 
communicates  its  own  properties  to  the  mass  which  surrounds 
it,  by  the  simple  influence  of  its  touch.  In  many  ways, 
Jesus  Christ  plainly  showed  how  much  he  expected  would 
be  accomplished  by  the  moral  power  of  the  mere  presence 
and  manifestations  of  piety  in  the  midst  of  a  world  lying 
in  sin. 

He  ordained  many  other  modes  of  exerting  influence  to 
spread  his  kingdom.  But  they  all  depended  for  their  success, 
in  a  great  measure,  on  being  connected  with  this.  The  gos- 
pel was  to  be  preached  everywhere,  but  its  practical  effects 
upon  the  lives  of  those  who  embraced  it,  were  to  give  power 
to  this  preaching.  In  fact,  it  was  our  Savior's  charactei 
which  gave  their  immense  effect  to  his  instructions ;  and 
Paul,  if  he  had  been  a  selfish,  worldly  man,  might  have  de- 
claimed against  sin  in  Jerusalem,  or  Athens,  or  Rome,  foi 
half  a  century  in  vain.  The  rapid  progress  of  true  religion 
in  early  times  was  undoubtedly  owing,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  the  lofty  standard  of  practical  piety  by  which  the  instruc- 
tions of  public  preaching  were  enforced.  The  pulse  of  ardent 
love  to  God,  and  true  benevolence  to  man,  beat  high  and 
strong  in  the  hearts  of  the  early  Christians ;  and  the  warm 
fire  is  the  one  which  spreads  easily. 

It  has  been  the  same  in  principle  ever  since  those  days. 
The  efforts  which  have  been  most  successful  in  bringing  men 
to  repentance  and  salvation  have  been,  not  those  connected 
with  the  most  powerful  arguing,  or  the  most  distinguished 
eloquence,  or  the  most  adroit  maneuvers ;  but  those  which 
have  originated  in,  and  been  sustained  by,  the  warmest  and 
most  devoted  piety.  Thus  many  of  the  most  successful  ser- 
mons have  had  little  literary  merit.  It  was  the  warm  and 
unaffected  spirit  of  the  preacher,  which  awakened,  by  sym- 
pathy, the  moral  susceptibilities  of  the  hearer.  Many  a 
mother,  in  despair  of  doing  any  thing  herself  for  her  child 


152  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  way  by  which  religion  is  to  be  spread. 

but  to  pray  for  him,  has  supplied  by  the  warmth  and  heart- 
felt interest  of  the  prayers  which  she  has  uttered  in  his 
presence,  the  very  means  of  his  conversion, — so  far  as  human 
means  can  go.  The  holy  and  heavenly  spirit  which  has 
glowed  in  her  heart,  the  love  of  the  Savior,  the  hatred  of  sin, 
the  desire  for  spiritual  union  with  God,  have  been  made  the 
means,  by  divine  grace,  of  awakening  the  moral  susceptibili- 
ties in  the  heart  of  her  child.  Conscience  has  been  aroused, 
and  the  lost  child  saved  ;— while  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
many  a  profound  theologian,  of  far  more  extensive  religious 
knowledge,  but  of  a  more  lukewarm  heart,  have  gone  down, 
notwithstanding  all  parental  efforts,  to  the  grave  in  sin. 
And  so  it  has  often  happened  that  some  obscure  and  solitary 
Christian,  living  in  want,  and  seeing  all  the  world  above 
him,  has  spent  year  after  year,  thinking  that  he  does  no  good, 
and  can  do  none,  and  wondering  why  God  should  spare  a 
useless  tree  so  long.  And  yet,  though  he  knew  it  not,  the 
light  and  the  influence  of  his  Christian  example  have  been 
seen  and  felt  all  around  him.  The  spirit  which  has  reigned 
within  his  bosom,  has  spread,  by  sympathy,  to  many  others ; 
and  it  has  often  aroused  conscience,  and  held  back  a  soul 
from  many  of  its  sins,  where  it  could  not  win  it  completely 
to  holiness  ;  and  thus  God  keeps  this  his  humble  follower 
on  the  stage  of  action,  as  one  of  the  most  efficient  laborers 
in  his  vineyard,  while  he  himself  knows  not  why  he  is  spared. 
Yes,  holiness  itself,  is  the  great  instrument  by  which  holiness 
is  to  be  spread.  It  will  work  most  powerfully  itself,  by  its 
mere  existence*  and  manifestation ;  and  it  must  give  to  every 
other  means,  almost  their  whole  efficiency,  in  acting  upon 
the  human  soul.  Thus  the  extension  of  Christianity  in  the 
world,  is  not  to  be  the  triumph  of  argument,  nor  the  success 
of  maneuvers, — but  the  spread  of  feeling  from  heart  to 
heart,  by  a  moral  sympathy,  which  God  by  his  grace  will 
make  effectual  to  moral  renewal. 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL,    PIETY.  153 

Preparation.  Honesty.  Assumed  interest  in  religion. 

If  then,  my  reader,  you  wish  to  devote  your  life  to  the 
work  of  doing  good  in  the  most  effectual  manner,  or  rather, 
in  the  only  effectual  manner,  the  main  work  before  you,  is 
the  work  of  saving  souls,  by  cherishing  yourself,  and  extend- 
ing from  yourself  to  others,  the  spirit  of  holy  jjbedience  to 
God,  and  love  to  men.  This  general  principle  being,  I  trust, 
established,  it  remains  only  to  give  some  plain  and  practical 
directions  for  carrying  it  into  effect. 

I.    THE    PREPARATION. 

1.  Be  sure  that  you  are  sincere  and  honest.  We  very 
often  detect  ourselves  in  assuming  involuntarily,  and  almost 
insensibly,  an  air  and  tone  of  deep  feeling  in  our  prayers  and 
in  our  conversation,  which  we  do  not  really  possess.  We 
know  that  unless  we  are  ourselves  interested  in  religious  duty, 
it  is  in  vain  to  attempt  to  interest  others  in  it,  and  we  mis- 
take appearing  interested,  for  actually  being  so.  How  often 
do  we  observe  in  others  an  affected  seriousness  of  counte- 
nance and  solemnity  of  tone.  How  often  do  we  detect  our- 
selves in  assuming  it.  Hypocrisy  is  one  of  the  forms  of  sin 
into  which  the  human  heart,  prone  to  iniquity,  most  easily 
and  continually  slides.  It  is  one  which  the  most  sincere  and 
devoted  Christian  finds  continually  taking  possession  of  his 
heart,  under  a  thousand  shapes  and  disguises.  But  our 
hypocrisy  seldom  deceives  any  but  ourselves.  The  world 
are  quick  to  detect  the  difference  between  what  is  natural 
and  what  is  affected  and  assumed.  It  is  real  interest  in 
religion, — real,  heart-felt  attachment  to  God,  and  honest, 
friendly  interest  in  man,  which  the  Spirit  of  God  makes  use 
•»>f  as  a  means  to  touch  the  feelings  of  others,  and  to  arouse 
Conscience,  and  awaken  a  sense  of  obligation  to  God ;  while 
the  affectation  of  what  is  not  possessed  is  a  slim  disguise, 
which  the  instinct  of  mankind  detects  at  once,  and  repels. 
Be  honest,  then.  Be  natural.  If  you  really  feel  any  warm- 

G* 


l«5l  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Interest  in  human  salvation.  Companions ;  friends ;  neighbors. 

hearted  interest  in  those  around  you,  let  your  words  and 
actions  freely  show  it ;  hut  if  you  do  not,  guard  most  care- 
fully against  the  attempt  to  feign  any.  I  do  not  mean,  guard 
against  a  deliberate  and  understood  intention  to  impose  upon 
men ;  for  thpse  only,  who  are  utterly  destitute  of  piety  will 
be  guilty  of  this ;  but  watch  your  heart,  lest,  adroit  as  it 
is  in  eluding  your  vigilance  and  running  away  into  sin,  it 
should  escape  you  here.  If  you  are  aware  that  the  real, 
unfeigned  interest  which  you  feel  in  the  progress  of  God's 
Kingdom  and  the  salvation  of  sinners,  is  not  enough  to  enable 
you  to  go  forward  with  much  success,  you  must  not  attempt 
to  remedy  the  difficulty  by  exhibiting  more  of  the  appear- 
ance, but  by  securing  more  of  the  reality.  This  brings  us  to 
the  second  of  the  directions  we  proposed  to  give. 

2.  Cultivate  a  genuine  interest  in  the  salvation  of  men, 
by  appropriate  meditation  and  prayer.  It  should  be  a  part 
of  our  daily  duty,  in  our  hours  of  retirement  and  devotion, 
to  bring  the  spiritual  condition  and  prospects  of  our  neigh- 
bors and  friends  distinctly  before  our  minds.  We  have  in 
the  ordinary  walks  of  life  so  many  mere  business  dealings 
with  those  around  us,  that  we  soon  come  to  consider  them 
in  the  light  of  mere  business  or  social  connections.  The 
merchant  or  mechanic  whom  we  meet  with  every  day,  we 
soon  come  to  consider  as  merely  a  merchant  or  mechanic, 
— we  think  of  him  as  a  workman, — we  look  at  his  character 
in  a  business  point  of  view,  and  after  a  short  time  we  cease 
to  regard  him  as  an  immortal  being  going  to  the  judgment, 
and  destined  to  an  eternity  of  holy  happiness  or  of  wretch- 
edness and  sin.  We  forget  that  he  has  a  soul  to  be  saved, 
and  that  the  responsibility  of  doing  something  to  promote 
its  salvation,  devolves  upon  us.  Now,  this  disposition  to 
overlook  the  spiritual  condition  and  prospects  of  our  fellow- 
men,  is  one  which  we  can  avoid  only  by  continued  medita- 
tion and  prayer.  We  must  have  time,  -vhen,  in  the  privacy 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  155 

Prayer.  A  tost  of  sincere  prayer. 

of  the  closet,  we  may  regard  our  fellow-men  as  they  are,— 
and  see  their  true  spiritual  condition ;  when  we  may  look  at 
our  neighbors  and  friends  with  a  view  to  their  prospects  as 
immortal  beings. 

And  we  must  not  only  think  of  the  character  and  condition 
of  our  companions  and  friends  in  respect  to  their  prospects 
for  eternity,  but  a  part  of  our  daily  duty  must  be,  honest, 
heartfelt  prayer  for  them.  I  do  not  mean  that  we  must 
utter  a  cold  form  of  petition,  asking  in  general  terms  for  the 
conversion  of  sinners,  and  for  the  extension  of  God's  kingdom. 
We  all  do  this  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  language  forms 
a  part  of  every  prayer,  and  it  is  uttered  by  thousands  every 
day,  who  feel  none  of  the  desires  they  seem  to  express. 
What  I  mean  by  really  praying  for  sinners  is  a  very  different 
thing. 

Sincere  prayer  for  the  conversion  of  souls  must  spring  from 
a  distinct  view  of  their  spiritual  danger,  and  an  honest  desire 
that  they  may  be  rescued  from  sin  and  its  consequences.  We 
must  think  of  our  neighbors  and  friends,  of  a  parent,  a  hus- 
band or  a  child,  as  an  enemy  of  God,  justly  obnoxious  to  his 
anger,  and  actually  condemned  already.  With  our  hearts 
full  of  compassion  for  them,  and  sorrow  for  the  awful  fate 
which  we  see  impending  over  them,  we  must  go  alone  before 
God,  and  pour  out  our  whole  souls  before  him  in  fervent  sup- 
plication that  he  will  have  mercy  upon  them  and  save  them. 
It  is  not  the  cold  repetition  of  a  form  of  words,  to  which 
we  have  become  so  habituated  that  we  can  not  well  construct 
a  prayer  without  it,  that  will  prevail  with  God.  It  is  the 
warm,  deep  fervency  of  the  heart,  that  feels  for  the  sorrows 
and  sufferings  which  it  wishes  to  relieve. 

There  is  one  test  of  genuine  prayer  for  sinners  which  is  so 
simple  and  so  easily  applied  that  I  can  not  forbear  mention- 
ing it  here.  It  is  the  freedom  with  which  particular  cases 
are  brought  before  God. 


156  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Religious  emotion.  Nature  and  province  of  it.  Illustration. 

When  our  devotions  are  cold  and  formal,  we  content  our- 
selves with  generalities  ;  but  when  prayer  comes  from  the 
heart,  it  is  dictated  by  feelings  of  strong  compassion,  and  this 
compassion  is  awaked  by  considering  the  spiritual  wants,  and 
the  gloomy  spiritual  prospects,  of  individuals.  We  shall 
bring  these  individual  cases  before  God.  We  shall  come  with 
our  neighbors,  our  acquaintances, — the  one  who  walks  with 
us  to  church,  or  who  sits  in  the  same  seat ;  or  our  friend,  or 
our  parent,  or  our  child.  We  shall  bring  the  individual 
case  to  God,  with  strong  crying  and  tears,  that  God  would 
save  them,  those  particular  individuals,  from  the  woes  and 
sufferings  which  we  see  hanging  over  their  heads. 

3.  Do  not,  however,  lay  too  much  stress  upon  religious 
emotion.  One  of  the  most  common  religious  errors  of  the 
present  day,  is,  the*  habit  of  confounding  religious  interest 
with  religious  emotion.  Interest  in  religion  is  our  constant 
duty.  Emotion  is  one  of  the  forms  which  this  interest  occa- 
sionally assumes.  Now  many  persons  confound  the  two,  and 
think  they  are  in  a  cold,  stupid  state,  unless  their  hearts  aro 
full  of  a  deep,  overwhelming  emotion.  They  struggle  con- 
tinually to  awaken  and  to  sustain  this  emotion,  and  are  dis- 
tressed and  disappointed  that  they  can  not  succeed.  They 
fail,  for  the  obvious  reason  that  the  human  heart  is  incapable 
of  long-continued  emotion  of  any  kind,  when  in  a  healthy 
state.  Susceptibility  of  emotion  is  given  by  the  Creator  for 
wise  and  good  purposes,  but  it  is  intended  to  be  an  occasional, 
not  an  habitual  state  of  the  mind ;  and,  in.  general,  our  duty 
is  to  control,  rather  than  to  cherish  it. 

For  example,  a  man  loves  his  wife  and  his  little  children, 
and  thinks  that  he  may  promote  their  permanent  good  in  the 
world,  by  removing  to  a  new  home  in  the  West,  where  he 
can  make  his  labors  far  more  effectual  in  laying  a  founda- 
tion for  their  wealth  and  prosperity,  than  he  can  in  the  home 
of  his  own  childhood.  He  sets  off,  therefore,  on  the  long  arid 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY. 


157 


The  traveller  at  the  West. 


Ills  letter. 


toilsome  journey,  to  explore  the  ground  and  prepare  the  way 
for  them  to  follow.  As  soon  as  he  gets  fairly  on  the  confines 
of  the  settled  country,  his  mind  is  daily  engrossed  by  labors 
and  cares.  Now,  he  is  toiling  over  the  rough  and  miry  road, 
— now  hesitating  upon  the  bank  of  a  rapid  stream, — now 
making  his  slow  and  tedious  way  through  the  unbroken 
forest,  his  mind  intent  in  studying  the  marks  of  the  trees,  or 
the  faint  traces  of  the  Indian's  path.  During  all  this  time, 
he  feels  no  emotion  of  love  for  his  wife  and  children,  but  his 
mind  is  under  the  continued  influence  of  the  strongest  possible 
interest  in  them.  It  is  love  for  them  which  carries  him  on, 
every  step  of  the  way.  It  is  this  that  animates  him,  this 
that  cheers  and  sustains ;  while  he  perhaps  very  seldom 
pauses  in  his  labors  and  cares,  in  order  to  bring  them  dis- 
tinctly to  his  mind,  and  fill  his  heart  with  the  flowings  of  a 
sentimental  affection. 

At  length,  however, 
at  some  solitary  post- 
office,  in  the  cabin  of  a 
settler,  he  finds  a  letter 
from  home,  and  he  lays 
the  reins  upon  his  sad- 
dle-bow, and  reads  the 
welcome  pages,  while 
his  horse  willing  to  rest, 
walks  slowly  through 
the  forest. 

As  he  reads  sentence 
after  sentence  of  the 
message  which  has 
thus  found  its  way  to 
him  from  his  distant 
home,  his  ardent  affec- 
tion for  the  loved  ones  there,  which  has,  through  the  day, 


THE   POST-OFFICE. 


Io8  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Emotion. 

remained  calm  within,  a  quiet  and  steady  principle  of  action, 
awakes  and  begins  to  agitate  his  bosom  with  more  active 
emotions ;  and  when,  at  the  close  of  the  letter,  he  comes  to  a 
little  postscript,  rudely  printed,  asking  "  father  to  come  home 
soon,"  it  calls  to  his  mind  so  forcibly  that  round  and  happy 
face  which  smiled  upon  him  from  the  steps  of  the  door  when 
he  came  away,  that  his  heart  is  full.  He  does  not  love  these 
absent  ones  any  more  than  he  did  before  ;  but  his  love  for 
them  takes  for  the  moment  a  different  form.  Nor  is  it  that 
his  affection  is  merely  in  a  greater  state  of  intensity  than  usual, 
at  such  a  time.  It  is  in  a  totally  different  state  ;  different 
in  its  nature,  and  different,  nay,  the  reverse  in  its  tendency. 
For  while  love,  as  a  principle  of  action,  would  carry  him 
forward  to  labor  with  cheerfulness  and  zeal  for  the  future 
good  of  his  family, — love,  as  a  mere  emotion,  tends  to 
destroy  all  his  interest- in  going  forward,  and  to  lead  him  to 
turn  round  in  his  path,  and  to  seek  his  shortest  way  back 
to  his  home.  He  readily  perceives  this,  and  though  the 
indulgence  of  such  feelings  may  be  delightful,  ha  struggles 
to  put  them  down.  He  suppresses  the  tear  which  fills  his 
eye, — folds  up  his  letter, — spurs  on  his  horse,  and  instead  of 
considering  the  state  of  emotion,  the  one  to  be  cultivated,  as 
the  only  genuine  evidence  of  true  love,  he  regards  it  rather  as 
one  to  be  controlled  and  suppressed,  as  interfering  with  the 
duties  and  objects  of  genuine  affection. 

Now  the  discrimination,  which  it  is  the  design  of  the  fore- 
going case  to  set  iu.  a  strong  light,  is  very  often  not  made  in 
religion.  But  it  should  be  made.  Piety,  if  it  exists  at  all, 
must  exist  generally  as  a  calm  and  steady  principle  of  action, 
changing  its  form  and  manifesting  itself  as  religious  emotion 
only  occasionally.  The  frequency  of  these  emotions,  and  the 
depth  of  the  religious  feeling  which  they  will  awaken,  de- 
pend upon  a  thousand  circumstances,  entirely  independent  of 
the  true  spiritual  condition  of  the  soul.  The  physical  influ- 


PROMOTION    OP    PERSONAL    PIETY.  159 

Conditions  of  religious  emotion.  Wasted  efforts. 

ences  by  which  we  are  surrounded, — the  bodily  temperament, 
— the  state  of  the  health, — the  degree  of  pressure  of  active 
duty, — the  social  circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed,— 
the  season,  the  hour,  the  scenery, — a  thousand  things,  may, 
by  the  combined  influence  of  some  or  of  all  of  them,  fill  the 
heart  with  religious  emotion, — provided  that  the  principle  of 
religion  be  already  established  there.  But  we  must  not  sup- 
pose that  religion  is  quiescent  and  inactive  at  other  times. 
Religion,  is,  to  say  the  least,  quite  as  active  a  principle,  when 
it  leads  a  man  to  his  work  in  the  cause  of  God,  as  when  in 
his  retirement,  it  swells  his  heart  with  spiritual  joys.  They 
are,  in  fact,  two  distinct  forms  which  the  same  principle 
assumes,  and  we  can  not  compare  one  with  the  other  so  as  to 
assign  to  either  the  pre-eminence.  Neither  can  exist  in  a 
genuine  state  without  some  measure  of  the  other.  It  is, 
however,  undoubtedly  the  former  which  is  the  great  test  of 
Christian  character.  It  is  the  former  which  we  are  to  strive 
to  establish  in  our  hearts,  and  in  which  we  may  depend 
upon  making  steady  and  certain  progress  just  in  proportion 
to  the  faithfulness  of  our  vigilance  and  the  sincerity  of  our 
prayers. 

But  in  point  of  fact,  the  attention  of  Christians,  in  their 
efforts  to  make  progress  in  piety,  very  often  looks  almost 
exclusively  to  the  latter.  They  think  that  continued  reli- 
gious emotion  is  the  only  right  frame  of  mind, — while,  in 
fact,  the  human  mind  is  so  constituted  that  continued  emo- 
tion of  any  kind  is  consistent  only  with  insanity.  They  toil 
and  struggle  for  emotion, — but  they  labor  in  vain,  for  emo- 
tion of  any  kind  is  just  the  very  last  thing  to  come  by  being 
toiled  and  struggled  for.  The  result  is,  therefore,  either  a 
feeling  of  dejection  and  confirmed  despondency — or  else  the 
gradual  cultivation  of  a  morbid  sentimentalism,  which  has 
nothing  but  the  semblance  of  piety. 

Our  business,  then,  is  in  our  efforts  to  bring  our  hearts  in 


160  THE   WAY    TO   DO   GOOD. 

Strngf  ling  for  feeling.  The  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

a  right  state  in  respect  to  God's  kingdom  in  this  world,  to 
cultivate  a  steady,  healthy,  active  interest  in  it, — not  to  strug- 
gle in  vain  for  continued  religious  emotion.  If  the  one  really 
reigns  over  us,  it  will  lead  us  to  exactly  the  right  sort  of 
effort  in  God's  cause ;  and  it  will  hring  to  our  hearts  many 
happy  seasons  of  the  other,  in  our  hours  of  retirement,  medi- 
tation, and  prayer. 

4.  It  must  be  your  habitual  feeling  in  all  your  plans  for 
the  salvation  of  souls,  that  you  are  and  can  be  only  the  in- 
strument,— that  the  only  efficient  means  of  success  must  be  a 
divine  influence  exerted  upon  the  soul.  Consider  often  how 
radical,  how  entire  is  the  change  which  you  wish  to  effect. 
If  you  only  desired  to  alter  a  friend's  course  of  conduct,  by 
showing  him  another  in  which  he  might  more  safely  and 
certainly  gratify  the  reigning  desires  and  affections  of  his 
heart,  you  might  perhaps  do  it  by  the  mere  natural  effect  of 
the  information  you  might  give.  But  here,  it  is  the  very 
desires  and  affections  of  the  heart  themselves  which  you  wish 
to  change.  You  are  going  to  offer  him  the  communion  and 
friendship  of  God.  It  is  just  the  very  thing  he  would  most 
dislike  and  avoid.  He  would  rather  have  God  away  than 
near.  You  are  going  to  offer  him  forgiveness  of  sin,  through 
Jesus  Christ,  his  Savior.  Far  from  valuing  the  forgiveness 
of  sin,  which  implies  the  abandonment  of  it,  it  is  the  con- 
tinued commission  of  sin  which  he  most  eagerly  clings  to. 
The  terms  of  salvation,  and  the  duties  arising  from  them, 
are  humbling  :  he  is  perhaps  hesitating  whether  he  can  com- 
ply with  terms  so  disagreeable.  He  is  naturally  proud.  He 
can  be  pleased  only  with  what  is  lofty.  Now  his  heart  must 
be  changed,  so  that  he  shall  love  these  very  terms,  and  love 
them  on  the  very  account  of  their  humiliating  character.  He 
never  can  be  saved  until  he  so  feels  his  sins,  and  the  attitude 
in  which  he  stands  toward  God,  as  to  find  the  lowest  place  be- 
fore the  throne  of  God  the  one  to  which  he  comes  easily  and 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  16] 

Greatness  of  the  change.  Difficulties.  Walk  softly. 

with  pleasure,  and  where  he  finds  the  greatest  peace  and 
happiness.  You  do  not  come,  therefore,  to  show  the  soul  a 
new  way  to  get  what  it  loves,  but  you  come  to  lead  it  to  love 
what  it  most  dislikes  and  avoids.  Humility,  penitence,  a 
lowly  walk  with  God,  the  ceaseless  presence  and  restraints 
of  divine  communion,  escape  from  sin  and  every  sinful  pleas- 
ure, and  the  absorbing  of  the  soul  in  holy  spiritual  joys  ; — 
these  favors,  invaluable  as  they  really  are,  are  not  such  as 
we  can  expect  mankind  to  welcome,  if  left  to  themselves. 
In  some  cases,  that  is,  when  you  act  in  coincidence  with  the 
desires  and  affections  of  the  heart,  the  more  clearly  and  dig- 
tinctly  you  present  reasonable  claims,  the  more  certain  it  is 
that  they  will  be  adopted.  But  the  more  clearly  and  dis- 
tinctly you  offer  these  spiritual  blessings  to  the  world,  the 
more  open  and  unequivocal  will  be  the  decision  with  which 
they  reject  them.  For  in  their  very  nature  they  run  exactly 
counter  to,  and  across,  all  their  natural  feelings  and  wishes 
and  desires.  God  must  work  in  them,  both  to  will  and  to 
do.  While  you  kindly  invite,  he  must  move  their  hearts  to 
love  the  boon  you  offer,  and  to  accept  the  invitation.  You 
must  always  feel  this.  It  will  make  you  quiet,  lowly,  sub- 
missive. You  will  walk  humbly  and  softly  before  God  in 
your  labors  to  promote  his  cause,  and  it  will  be  safe  for  him 
to  give  you  success. 

"  Walk  humbly  and  softly  before  God  :"  there  is  a  great 
meaning  in  these  words.  Like  children,  who  go  out  with 
their  father  to  a  work  of  difficulty  or  danger,  too  much  for 
their  feeble  powers.  They  walk  quietly  by  his  side.  They 
speak  to  him  with  subdued  voices,  and  walk  with  cautious 
steps,  looking  up  to  him  for  direction,  and  trusting  to  his 
strength  for  success.  Just  so  the  Christian  should  walk,  in 
his  path  of  active  duty  in  this  world, — humbly  and  softly  by 
the  side  of  his  Father. 


]  62  THE    WAY    TO    DO    UOOD. 

The  measures.  Examination  of  the  ground. 

These  suggestions  we  have  offered  in  respect  to  the  prep- 
aration,— the  state  of  heart  appropriate  to  the  work  of  saving 
souls.  We  now  come  to  consider  the  measures  necessary  in 
the  work  itself. 


THE    MEASURES. 

1.  Explore  fully  the  spiritual  field  around  you.  Not  a 
little  of  good  fails  of  being  accomplished  in  this  world,  on  ac- 
count of  its  not  being  known  how  easily  it  might  be  done. 
Now  every  Christian,  in  his  daily  routine  of  business  and  of 
intercourse  with  society,  finds  himself  placed  in  a  little  sphere 
of  duty,  which  he  ought  to  consider  as  assigned  especially  to 
him.  The  portion  of  the  vineyard  by  which  he  is  imme- 
diately surrounded,  is  the  one  which  it  is  his  peculiar  prov- 
ince to  till.  And  he  ought,  first  of  all,  to  make  himself  care- 
fully acquainted  with  its  conditions.  We  ought  to  make  it 
our  business  to  learn,  by  delicate,  and  gentle,  and  proper 
methods, — the  actual  spiritual  condition  of  our  acquaintances 
and  friends,  so  as  to  be  ready  to  act  when  there  is  opportu- 
nity for  action.  Hollow-hearted  and  hypocritical  zeal,  in  at- 
tempting to  do  this,  will  run  itself  into  continual  difficulties  ; 
and  by  its  coarse,  obtrusive,  and  censorious  spirit,  close  up 
against  itself  every  avenue  to  the  heart.  But  humble,  unas- 
suming, and  heartfelt  piety,  warm  with  sincere  attachment 
to  the  Savior,  and  honest  benevolence  toward  men,  will  in- 
stinctively know  how  to  accomplish  this  work  without  friction 
or  noise. 

The  truth  is,  that  there  exists  to  a  far  greater  extent  than 
is  generally  supposed,  among  impenitent  persons  in  every 
Christian  land,  a  disposition  to  listen,  at  least,  to  the  claims 
of  religion,  and  to  appreciate  efforts  for  their  salvation,  made 
in  honest  good-will.  While  the  heart  rises  against  holiness, 
union  with  God,  and  other  spiritual  blessings,  it  still  shrinks 
from  the  prospect  of  perpetual  and  ceaseless  sin  ;  and  he  who 


PROMOTION   OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  163 

Popularity  of  our  Savior's  preaching.  Limitation  of  the  principle. 

endeavors  to  save  his  neighbors  and  friends  from  this  ruin, 
will  find  that  though  they  may  reject  the  salvation  offered, 
and  still  cling  to  sin,  they  will  generally  feel  a  sentiment  of 
kindness  only  toward  him  who  faithfully  offered  it.  It  was 
so  with  our  Savior's  preaching,  the  common  impression  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding.  The  ecclesiastical  influence  of  his 
day  armed  itself  against  him,  but  the  populace  everywhere 
thronged  him.  The  common  people  heard  him  gladly. 
They  welcomed  him  when  he  came  in  peace,  with  hosannas 
and  branches  of  the  palm-tree  ;  and  when  his  enemies  con- 
trived to  enlist  the  Roman  military  power  on  their  side,  so  as 
to  lead  him  out  to  Calvary, — the  vast  crowds  from  Jerusalem 
followed,  lamenting  and  bewailing  him.  In  those  throngs, 
there  might  have  been  few  who  were  his  sincere  disciples, 
but  though  they  would  not  yield  to  the  inflexible  demands  of 
the  doctrine, — they  could  not  but  be  touched  by  the  unaf- 
fected and  unceasing  benevolence  of  the  man.  Now  it  al- 
ways has  been  so,  and  it  always  must  be  so  with  proper 
efforts  to  save  men's  souls.  Faithful  attachment  to  the  cause 
ofGod  will  bring  upon  those  who  exhibit  it,  persecution,  it  is 
true, — but  it  is  the  persecution  of  the  few,  not  of  the  many. 
That  is  the  true  distinction.  The  Christian  must  expect,  if 
he  is  faithful,  to  be  buffeted,  and  opposed,  and  hated, — but  it 
will  only  be  by  a  few,  whose  peculiar  circumstances,  or  whose 
extreme  depravity,  separates  them  from  mankind  at  large. 
He  must  expect  that  the  mass  of  those  whom  he  endeavors  to 
save,  will  appreciate  his  honest  kiudness,  and  feel  something 
like  respect  and  gratitude  toward  him. 

These  remarks,  however,  we  wish  the  reader  especially 
to  observe,  are  intended  to  apply  almost  exclusively  to  private 
intercourse  with  neighbors  and  friends,  in  a  quiet  Christian 
community,  where  the  principles  and  duties  of  Christianity 
are  in  theory  admitted.  When  Christian  principle  comes 
to  array  itself  in  opposition  to  powerful  interests,  or  to  the 


164 


THE    WAY    TO    BO    GOOD 


Estimation  of  virtue  in  this  world. 


prevailing  habits  or  pursuits  of  the  community,  it  often  awa- 
kens universal  and  most  bitter  hostility.  Such  emergencies 
have  often  occurred,  and  must  undoubtedly  often  occur  again. 
In  respect,  however,  to  the  ordinary  personal  intercourse 
of  private  Christians,  with  their  impenitent  neighbors  and 
friends,  in  a  land  like  ours,  we  at  least  ought  not  to  antici- 
pate hostility.  Many  circumstances  in  the  past  history  of 
piety,  show  that  men  have  often  been  disposed  to  perceive  its 
excellence  in  others,  even  when  they  would  not  yield  to  its 
influences  themselves  Abraham  was  received  with  favor 
wherever  he  went.  Joseph  was  generally  respected  and  be- 
loved. They  were  few  who  lowered  him  into  the  pit,  and  sold 
him  into  slavery.  The  character  of  Daniel  commanded  admi- 
ration, though  there  were  malignant  individuals  who  plotted 
against  his  life.  John  the  Baptist  was  in  no  danger  from  the 

throngs  around  him, 
while  defenseless,  and 
in  the  solitary  wilder- 
ness, he  reproved  them 
of  sin.  They  loved  to 
hear  him.  It  was  the 
hate  of  only  one  adul- 
teress, and  the  cruelty 
of  one  tyrant,  which 
cost  him  his  life.  So  the 
general  popularity  of 
our  Savior  as  a  preach- 
er, the  crowds  that 
everywhere  thronged 
him,  testify.  His  ene- 
mies were  few,  though 
they  were  powerful 

enough,  with  the  help  of  Roman  spears,  to  lead  him  to  the 
cross.  And  lastly,  Paul  found  a  welcome  and  listening  hear 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST. 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  105 

Common  impression.  A  distinction. 

ere  wherever  he  went.  His  dangers  and  difficulties  were  the 
work  of  a  small  number  of  designing  men,  and  the  populace 
moved  against  him  only  when  these  few,  by  falsehood  and 
misrepresentation,  urged  them  on. 

Now  we  are  slow  to  make  the  distinction  pointed  out 
above.  We  are  apt  to  imagine  that  inasmuch  as  faithful, 
Christian  effort  must  expect  opposition  in  every  age,  it  must 
expect  it  from  every  person  ;  and  we  sometimes  go  about 
our  work  expecting  to  be  met  everywhere  with  the  look  of 
hostility  and  defiance.  And  going  with  the  expectation  of 
finding  this  feeling,  we  insensibly  speak  and  act  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  awaken  it.  The  reader  may  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  take  a  different  view  of  the  feelings  with  which  the 
mass  of  mankind  are  prepared  to  receive  honest  efforts  for 
their  spiritual  good,  yet  the  more  he  reflects  upon  it,  the 
more  he  looks  at  the  testimony  of  Scripture,  and  the  history 
of  the  church,  the  more  he  will  be  satisfied  that  the  view 
above  presented,  is  true.  If  it  is  true,  it  is  plain  that  we 
must  go  about  the  work  of  seeking,  and  saving  men,  with  the 
feeling  that  our  efforts,  if  properly  and  kindly  made,  will  not 
be  angrily  received.  That  hostility  and  hatred  are  to  be  ex- 
pected only  from  a-  few,  but  that  the  great  majority,  while 
they  will  still  perhaps  love  and  cling  to  their  sins,  will  ap- 
preciate and  feel  the  kindness  which  attempts  to  save  them 
from  future  misery. 

It  is  very  probable,  now,  that  some  reader  who  may  have 
perused  these  last  paragraphs,  without  very  discriminating 
attention,  may  iinderstand  me  to  say  that  the  natural  heart 
has  no  feeling  of  hostility  to  the  claims  of  God's  law. 
Whereas,  a  little  attention  will  observe  that  I  say  no  such 
thing.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have  repeatedly  asserted  ex- 
actly the  contrary.  There  is  a  hostility  to  the  claims  of 
God's  law,  but  not  always  hostility  to  the  messenger  who 
kindly  presents  those  claims.  It  may  seem  strange,  perhaps, 


166  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD 

We  must  expect  a  welcome.  Favorable  opportunities. 

that  a  man  should  feel  gratitude  and  attachment  to  the 
friend  who  endeavors  to  save  him  from  the  sin,  while  he  yet 
loves  the  sin,  and  clings  to  it,  and  is  determined  not  to  let  it 
go.  But  such  is  human  nature,  and  the  experience  of  every 
Christian  who  has  been  faithful  in  his  Master's  work,  will 
readily  call  to  mind  many  cases  in  illustration  of  it. 

We  are  to  make  it  our  business,  then,  to  look  around  over 
the  field  to  which  Ged  has  assigned  us,  with  the  expectation 
of  finding,  in  ordinary  cases,  a  welcome,  not  a  repulse,  in 
our  efforts  to  save  the  soul.  This  expectation  should  lead 
us  to  go  forward  boldly,  hut  at  the  same  time  delicately  and 
kindly.  We  must  be  active,  and  faithful,  and  frank,  and 
courageous,  while  at  the  same  time  we  are  mild  and  unas- 
suming. If  our  hearts  are  really  in  it,  it  will  be  easy  and' 
pleasant  work,  and  we  shall  have  far  more  numerous  oppor- 
tunities for  doing  something  for  the  cause  of  God,  than  we 
have  supposed. 

Almost  every  Christian  would  find  within  his  family,  or 
within  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance,  several  persons  who 
are  constantly  expecting, — even  desiring  that  he  will  intro- 
duce religious  conversation  with  them.  Gently  pressed,  from 
time  to  time,  for  many  years,  perhaps,  with  feeble  convic- 
tions of  sin,  they  are  continually  hoping  that  some  faithful, 
Christian  friend  will  address  them.  Though  they  dislike  the 
service  of  God,  and  continue  accordingly  to  live  in  sin,  con- 
science is  not  quiet,  and  the  future  is  darkened  by  their  fore- 
boding fears.  They  are  inexcusable  for  continuing  thus  in 
sin,  waiting  for  an  influence  from  another, — but  yet  this  in- 
fluence, if  exerted,  might,  very  probably,  be  the  effectual 
instrument  in  leading  them  to  repentance.  Now  see  to  it, 
my  reader,  that  no  such  cases  exist  near  to  you.  Perhaps 
there  are  some.  Explore  the  ground  and  see.  It  may  be 
your  most  intimate  and  familiar  companion,  whom  you  have 
seen  every  day  for  years,  and  conversed  with  on  every  sub- 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  167 

Artifice.  Anonymous  letters.  Courtesies  of  social  life. 

ject  of  interest  to  you  both,  except  the  salvation  of  your 
souls ;  it  is  strange,  but  it  is  very  often  the  case,  that  the 
Christian  and  the  sinner  who  are  most  closely  associated 
in  the  family,  or  in  the  business  or  social  relations  of  life, 
are  those  between  whom  the  subject  of  salvation  is  most 
shunned. 

2.  These  views  of  the  condition  and  of  the  feelings  of 
mankind,  in  respect  to  the  efforts  made  for  their  salvation, 
should  lead  you  to  be  frank,  and  open,  and  candid,  in  all  that 
you  do  and  say.  Expect  to  be  met  with  a  friendly  spirit ; 
and  act  accordingly,  with  frankness,  openness,  and  honesty, 
Resort  to  no  artifices,  no  contrivances,  no  management.  An 
anonymous  letter,  a  concealed  tract,  a  covertly  insinuated 
reproof,  will  awaken  nothing  but  displeasure,  where  an  honest, 
direct,  and  friendly  communication  would  be  received  in  the 
spirit  with  which  it  was  given.  In  being  open,  however,  be 
careful  not  to  be  ostentatious,  and  never  let  frankness  de- 
generate into  disrespectful  familiarity,  nor  honesty  become 
bluntness,  nor  plain  dealing,  coarse  obtrusion.  In  all  your 
religious  intercourse  also  with  others,  be  governed  entirely  by 
those  rules  of  delicacy  and  propriety  which  constitute  the 
cement  and  the  charm  of  social  life.  Perhaps  no  error  is 
more  common,  than  for  a  professing  Christian,  forward  and 
zealous  in  his  Master's  cause,  to  consider  himself  absolved 
from  all  obligations  like  these.  The  lofty  nature  of  the  work 
that  he  has  to  do,  rises  so  high,  he  imagines,  as  to  lift  him 
above  all  the  restraints  of  these  principles  of  action  by  which 
human  conduct  is  ordinarily  controlled.  Sad  mistake !  It 
is  not,  however,  that  the  work  of  saving  souls  ought  to  be 
sacrificed  to  the  principles  of  human  courtesy,  but  that  it  can 
not  go  on  in  defiance  of  them.  The  paths  in  which  we  have 
to  labor,  in  promoting  the  salvation  of  men,  are  the  ave- 
nues to  the  human  heart,  and  we  can  not  succeed,  if  we  re- 


168  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Discussions.  Truth  spiritually  discerned.  Examples. 

sort  to  measures  by  which  every  such  avenue  is  barred  up 
and  defended. 

I  ought,  however,  here,  and  repeatedly  in  the  course  of 
these  remarks,  to  remind  my  readers  that  these  directions  are 
intended  mainly  for  common  Christians  in  the  walks  of  pri- 
vate life.  Cases  do  doubtless  often  occur,  in  which  persons 
holding  important  stations  in  the  church,  and  even  private 
Christians,  are  bound  to  rebuke  sin  and  sinners  in  the  most 
decided  manner.  Nay,  prevailing  sins  in  a  community  may 
sometimes  call  for  an  array  of  the  followers  of  Jesus  Christ 
in  an  attitude  of  open  and  positive  hostility.  These  cases  we 
do  not  here  include.  We  refer  ouly  to  the  private  efforts  of 
individual  Christians,  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  to  spread 
their  Master's  spirit  from  soul  to  soul. 

3.  Generally  avoid  discussion  of  doctrine  with  religious 
inquirers.  There  is  a  double  reason  for  this.  In  the  first 
place,  you  can  not  remove  the  theoretical  difficulties  which 
cluster  about  the  subject  of  religion,  while  the  heart  of  the 
inquirer  remains  unchanged  ;  and  then,  in  the  second  place, 
if  you  could  do  it  by  great  effort,  this  labor  may  as  well  be 
spared, — for  if  the  change  in  the  heart  is  once  effected,  these 
difficulties  will  melt  away  of  themselves,  and  all  your  labor 
of  endless  debate  will  be  saved.  The  need  of  a  Savior,  for 
instance,  you  can  not  establish  by  argument  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  a  mind  insensible  of  guilt.  But  let  the  moral  sensi- 
bilities be  once  awakened, — bring  conviction  of  sin,  and  the 
soul  will  hunger  and  thirst  for  a  Savior  with  an  ardor  of 
desire  which  nothing  but  an  atoning  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of 
God  will  effectually  relieve  and  satisfy.  So  in  regard  to  the 
agency  and  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit ; — there  are  a 
thousand  questions  connected  with  that  subject,  which  can 
not  be  understood  by  any  mind  in  which  those  influences 
have  not  been  felt.  But  where  they  have  been  felt,  although 
the  subject,  even  then,  may  not  be  theoretically  understood, 


PROMOTION    OP    PERSONAL    PIETY.  169 

Effect  of  a  discussion.  A  common  error. 

all  the  practical  difficulties  at  once  disappear.  So  with  the 
desert  of  sin, — and  the  just  weight  and  duration  of  future 
punishment ;  they  can  not  be  seen  by  a  mind  that  is  impen- 
itent and  worldly.  Many  such  minds  may,  indeed,  from  the 
influence  of  early  education,  receive  unquestioned  the  scrip- 
ture statements  on  all  these  subjects  ;  but  if  they  do  not 
receive  them, — if  they  have  begun  to  entertain  doubts,  or  to 
feel  difficulties,  you  can  not  easily  solve  or  remove  them  by 
theological  discussion,  while  the  subject  of  them  remains  in 
his  sins.  A  discussion,  though  begun  on  the  part  of  the 
inquirer,  with  an  honest  desire  to  have  his  difficulties  re- 
moved, will  soon  become  a  contest  for  victory ;  and  far  from 
solving  his  doubts,  it  will  be  quite  as  likely  that  he  will 
defeat  you,  as  that  you  will  satisfy  him.  The  reason  is,  that 
the  truths,  or  rather  the  elements  to  which  the  truths  relate, 
which  you  wish  to  make  plain  to  him,  are  spiritually  dis- 
cerned, while  in  his  present  state  he  can  not  know  them. 
He  may  take  them  upon  trust  from  others ;  but  he  can  not 
see  them  with  his  own  eyes,  or  believe  them  with  his  own 
faith,  till  his  eyes  have  been  opened  by  influences  very  differ- 
ent from  those  of  theological  discussion. 

There  prevails  among  irreligious  men,  I  mean,  those  who 
feel  any  interest  at  all  in  the  subject  of  salvation — an  im- 
pression that  they  must  have  clear  ideas  of  truth,  before  they 
are  under  any  obligation  to  do  duty.  They  talk  of  looking 
into  the  subject  of  religion,  of  inquiring  into  the  tenets  of 
different  persuasions,  as  preliminary  altogether  to  personal 
piety.  They  seem  to  imagine  that  so  long  as  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances,— such  as  the  pressure  of  business,  or  the  appa- 
rent balance  of  the  argument,' — keep  them  from  coming  to  a 
decision  about  the  theory,  they  are  under  no  practical  obli- 
gations whatever.  The  latter  may,  they  think,  properly 
remain  in  suspense,  until  the  former  are  all  settled  ;  and  the 
more  argument  and  debate  you  hold  with  them,  the  more 

H 


170  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Degree  of  knowledge  necessary  to  saltation. 

permanent  is  this  impression.  But  the  truth  is,  there  is  very 
little  theoretical  truth  whose  possession  is  necessary  to  hring 
upon  a  man  the  whole  force  of  imperious  obligation  to  repent 
of  his  sins.  There  is  one  question,  it  is  true,  which  a  man 
must  have  knowledge  enough  to  answer.  "  Have  I  ever 
done  wrong  ?"  If  the  powers  of  his  feeble  intellect  grope  in 
darkness  in  respect  to  this  question,  his  Maker  will  doubtless 
hold  him  exempt  from  moral  obligation,  through  the  imper- 
fection of  his  faculties.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has 
light  enough  for  this,  he  need  not  wait,  certainly,  for  more. 
The  duty  of  repentance  presses  upon  him  with  the  whole 
weight  of  her  claims.  Until  these  claims  are  admitted,  he 
ought  not  to  expect  to  make  successful  progress  in  under- 
standing the  nature  of  God's  government,  or  his  relations  to 
men.  How  can  he  expect  it,  while  he  shows  himself  God's 
enemy  by  clinging  to  acknowledged  sin. 

Our  first  great  duty,  then,  with .  religious  inquirers,  is  to 
bring  them,  not  to  correctness  of  theological  sentiment, — 
but  to  heartfelt  conviction  of  sin :  and  this,  not  because 
correctness  of  religious  sentiment  is  not  immensely  important, 
but  because  it  is  impossible  to  force  it  upon  an  impenitent 
heart  by  the  mere  power  of  reasoning.  Error  comes  through 
the  corruption  of  the  heart ;  and  the  full  establishment  of 
the  truth  must  be  expected  from  its  purification.  The  Spirit 
does  indeed  make  the  truth  the  instrument  of  conviction  and 
conversion  ;  nay,  more,  the  truth  is  the  only  instrument ; — 
but  the  important  point  to  be  noticed  is,  that  there  is  truth 
enough  blazing  before  the  mind  and  conscience  of  every  man, 
to  bring  upon  him  the  full  force  of  moral  obligation,  though 
there  may  be  many  things  connected  with  revealed  religion, 
which,  through  the  insensibility  of  a  hardened  heart,  or  the 
feebleness  and  imperfection  of  human  powers,  are  involved 
in  obscurity.  Press  therefore  the  obligations  arising  out  of 
truths  which  can  not  be  denied,  and  by  the  blessing  of  the 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  171 

A  dialogue.  Investigation  not  the  first  duty. 

Holy  Spirit  you  may  hope  to  awaken  spiritual  sensibility,  by 
means  of  which  the  soul  which  you  are  attempting  to  save 
shall  hunger  and  thirst  after  more. 

For  example,  we  will  suppose  that  an  impenitent  man  in 
conversing  with  a  religious  friend,  under  some  circumstances 
which  have  awakened  temporary  seriousness,  expresses  his 
state  of  mind  as  follows.  The  replies  and  remarks  of  the 
Christian  illustrate  the  course  indicated  by  these  principles. 

Sinner.  This  subject  has  lately  been  a  great  deal  upon 
my  mind.  I  have,  however,  some  difficulties.  I  have  been 
inclined  to  disbelieve  the  doctrine  of  future  punishment, — 
but  some  things  lately,  have  led  me  to  fear  that  I  may  have 
been  mistaken,  and  I  intend  to  take  hold  of  the  subject,  and 
examine  it  fairly  and  thoroughly.  Can  you  recommend  to 
me  any  books  ? 

He  says  this  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  as  if  his  Christian 
friend  would  receive  the  intimation  with  joy  and  pleasure, 
and  regard  his  determination  to  give  both  sides  a  fair  hear- 
ing, as  a  very  meritorious  act. 

His  friend  replies, 

"  I  could  name  to  you  some  books,  but  I  should  hardly 
advise  you  to  make  such  an  investigation." 

"  Should  not  advise  me  to  make  it !"  exclaims  the  inquirer, 
"  why  not  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  should  not  think  that  your  first  step  would  be 
to  examine  that  subject." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  a  question  ?  Perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  ask  it ;  but  since  you  request  Tny  advice  in  re- 
spect to  your  religious  course,  and  as  I  can  not  give  it  with- 
out distinctly  understanding  the  facts,  I  know  you  will  excuse 
it.  Are  you  in  the  daily  habit  of  secret  prayer  ?" 

"  Why, — no,  sir, — I  can  not  say  that  I  am." 

'  You  believe  there  is  a  God  ?" 


172  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  difficulty  in  the  heart. 

"  Certainly,  I  do." 

"  And  that  he  exerts  a  constant  oversight  and  care  of  all 
his  creatures  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think  it  right  or  wrong,  then,  for  us  to  live  in 
the  neglect  of  all  communication  and  intercourse  with  him  ?" 

"  It  is  wrong, — I  must  admit." 

"  I  must  ask  one  more  question  about  it.  When  you  con- 
sider the  whole  case,  our  connection  with  God  and  his  com- 
mands,— do  you  think  it  very  wrong,  or  only  moderately 
wrong,  to  live  many  years,  as  you  have,  without  any  inter- 
course with  him  ?" 

The  man  is  silent.  Utter  speechlessness  is  the  proper  an- 
swer to  such  a  question. 

"  Now,  sir,  I  think  there  is  a  far  more  important,  and 
more  profitable  question  for  you  to  examine,  than  the  ques- 
tion of  future  punishment.  It  is  this.  Why  is  it  that  you 
are  doing  now,  and  have  been  doing,  year  after  year,  for  a 
very  long  time,  what  you  must  see  is  the  height  of  ingrati- 
tude and  sin  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  the  truth  is,  I  have  not  thought  much  about 
it." 

"True  :  but  that  only  brings  up  the  question  in  a  little" 
different  form.  How  could  you  have  lived  so  long,  with  so 
many  memorials  of  God  all  about  you,  and  so  many  calls  to 
love  and  serve  him,  and  yet  not  think  much  about  it  ?  If 
you  go  to  examining  the  subject  of  future  punishment,  you 
may,  perhaps,  get  engaged  in  the  discussion,  so  that  your  rea- 
soning powers  will  be  interested  ;  but  while  your  heart  re- 
mains in  its  present  state,  you  will  end  as  you  began, — youi 
reason  perplexed  by  the  opposing  arguments,  and  your  con- 
science asleep,  as  it  has  been,  in  sin.  But  if  you  look  into 
your  heart,  in  view  of  your  life  of  ungodliness  and  sin,  with 
humble  prayer  that  God  will  help  you  understand  it,  and 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  173 


Another  case.  A  proposed  argument.  Its  uaelessneM. 

that  by  his  grace  he  will  renew  it,  you  may  hope  to  be 
saved." 

Or  perhaps  the  inquirer  comes  with  the  same  difficulty, 
but  in  a  little  different  spirit.  He  wishes  to  argue  the  case 
directly  with  you.  He  knows  that  you  believe  in  the  eter- 
nal suffering  of  the  wicked,  and  comes  with  a  store  of  objec- 
tions and  arguments,  to  refute  the  opinion.  Now,  however 
strongly  you  may  yourself  believe,  and  however  clear  the  ar- 
guments may  stand  in  your  own  mind,  and  however  easily 
you  may  be  able  to  set  aside  every  objection,  you  can  make 
no  progress  in  a  debate  with  such  a  man.  If  he  is  a  good 
disputant,  he  will  know  how  to  embarrass  and  perplex  you, 
though  he  may  have  a  bad  cause.  If  he  is  a  bad  one,  he 
will  not  understand  your  arguments,  or  appreciate  the  force 
and  bearing  of  what  you  say  ;  but  he  will  be  slipping  off, 
and  flying  away  in  every  direction, — and  after  an  hour's 
debate,  you  will  find  that  you  have  made  no  progress  what- 
ever. 

You  may  say  to  him  then, 

"  Suppose  we  should  have  such  a  discussion,  what  would 
oe  the  result  ?  Suppose  that  you  should  convince  me  that 
there  is  no  punishment  for  sin,  in  another  world,  what 
then  ?" 

"  Why  then  I  should  expect  you  would  give  it  up,  and  not 
let  us  hear  any  more  of  it." 

"  And  suppose  I  should  gain  the  victory,  and  prove  to  your 
satisfaction,  that  there  is  a  judgment  to  come,  and  that  you 
will  be  called  to  account  there  for  all  your  sins  in  this 
world  ?" 

"  Why — in  that  case, — I  should  admit  it,  if  you  convince 
me  satisfactorily." 

"  And  should  you  feel  an  obligation  to  attend  to  the  sub- 
ject of  religion  ?" 


174  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  proper  course.  Aim  to  produce  conviction  of  Bin. 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  he  replies  decidedly. — "  If  you  will  con- 
vince me  that  there  is  to  he  a  judgment  after  death,  I  prom- 
ise you  that  I  will  immediately  attend  to  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  religion  ?" 

"  Why  we  both  understand  what  is  meant  by  it, — I  can 
not  undertake  to  define  it." 

"  I  understand  of  it,  repenting  of,  and  abandoning  all  sin, 
and  beginning  to  love  and  serve  God,  in  hope  of  forgiveness 
through  Jesus  Christ."  "Very  well." 

"  You  admit  this.  Well,  just  see  in  what  state  of  mind 
you  are,  when  you  come  to  have  a  discussion  with  me.  You 
will  not  repent  and  abandon  sin,  or  begin  to  love  and  serve 
God,  because  you  think  you  are  not  to  be  called  to  account 
for  it.  If  I  can  prove  to  you  that  there  is  a  future  world  of 
eternal  suffering,  and  that  you  must  be  ruined  if  you  die  as 
you  are,  then  you  will  alter  your  course,  and  begin  to  love 
God ;  otherwise,  you  will  not.  Now  I  know  that  I  never 
could  convince  you  while  you  are  in  this  state  of  mind.  It 
would  do  no  good  to  try." 

Your  companion  will  find  it  difficult  to  reply  to  this,  and 
you  can  easily  lead  him  to  see,  that  the  facts  in  this  case  in- 
dicate a  sad  state  of  dislike  to  God  and  hostility  to  his  reign ; 
and  that  instead  of  disputing  on  the  question  whether  he  is 
to  escape  punishment  for  this  or  not,  he  ought  to  humble 
himself  at  once  before  God,  and  secure  his  forgiveness  ;  for 
whether  he  is  to  be  punished  or  not  for  it,  it  is,  undoubtedly, 
a  most  heinous  sin.  So  in  all  other  cases.  A  man  living  in 
impenitence  and  sin,  is  not  in  a  state  of  mind  to  be  convinced 
of  religious  truth  by  disputation  ;  and  it  is  wiser  and  better 
that  the  attempt  should  not  be  made.  This  subject,  how- 
ever, will  come  before  us  again  in  another  chapter. 

4.  Endeavor  to  lead  the  inquirer  immediately  to  use  the 
means  of  grace,  honestly  and  faithfully.  Let  him  begin  to 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  175 

Means  of  grace.  Common  impression  ; — groundless. 

read  the  Bible  every  day,  and  to  pray  to  God  in  secret,  and 
in  his  family,  if  he  have  one.  Show  to  him  that  he  ought 
at  once  and  openly  to  abandon  his  sinful  and  worldly  courses, 
and  to  devote  a  portion  of  his  time  to  reading,  meditation,  re- 
ligious conversation,  and  prayer.  We  sometimes  shrink  a 
little  from  giving  these  directions,  lest  they  should  turn  off 
the  attention  of  the  inquirer  from  the  duty  of  immediate  re- 
pentance, and  lead  to  a  round  of  mere  external  duties,  instead 
of  forming  that  vital  union  with  the  Savior,  by  penitence  and 
faith,  which  can  alone  save  the  soul.  And  there  is,  in  fact, 
some  danger  here,  but  this  should  not  prevent  our  pressing 
upon  the  impenitent  sinner  his  whole  duty,  as  claiming  at 
once  his  immediate  attention ;  and  these  things  are  unques- 
tionably a  part  of  it.  It  is  his  undoubted  duty  to  commence 
immediately  the  study  of  the  Bible,  and  secret  prayer  ; — not 
hypocritically,  or  from  mere  selfish  fear  of  future  punishment, 
— but  with  honest  sincerity,  and  from  a  heartfelt  and  holy 
desire  to  know  and  to  do  the  will  of  God.  "  But,"  say  you, 
"  he  has  not  such  holy  desires, — his  mind  is  only  under  the 
influence  of  selfish  fear,  and  if  he  performs  these  external 
duties  at  all,  it  will  be  in  such  a  manner  as  will  only  increase 
his  guilt." 

True,  I  reply,  I  will  allow  it.  I  will  allow  that  at  the 
moment  of  your  giving  the  advice,  the  heart  of  the  sinner  is 
unchanged,  and  that  without  thorough  moral  renewal,  all  his 
external  duties  will  be  merely  superficial  and  hollow, — an 
abomination  in  the  sight  of  God ; — though  whether  they 
would  be  a  greater  abomination  than  utterly  neglecting  them, 
may  not  be  certain.  Still,  how  and  when  are  we  to  expect 
such  a  moral  renewal  as  is  necessary  to  take  place  ?  How 
and  when  are  we  to  expect  new  and  holy  desires  to  spring 
up  in  the  darkened  and  obdurate  heart  ?  What  occasions 
are  we  to  hope  that  the  Spirit  will  make  use  of,  to  renew  the 
soul,  and  awaken  spiritual  life  there  ?  There  can  be  but  one 


176  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Immediate  action.  Religious  duties  of  the  impenitent. 

answer.  The  right  feeling  is  most  reasonably  to  be  expected 
to  arise,  in  conjunction  with  an  effort  to  perform  the  right 
act.  If  a  hundred  religious  inquirers  were  to  be  told  simply 
that  it  would  be  useless  for  them  to  attempt  to  do  their  duty, 
until  their  hearts  are  changed,  they  would  imagine  that  they 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  for  this  change,  and  the  result 
would  be,  returning  indifference  and  stupidity,  or  else  a 
gloomy  and  settled  discouragement,  or  despair.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  the  religious  teacher  should  urge  immediate  action, 
pressing,  at  the  same  time,  the  indispensable  necessity  of  holy 
motive,  the  very  change  desired  would  be  most  likely  to  take 
place  simultaneously  with  the  attempt  to  comply.  We  say 
to  an  impenitent  sinner,  "  Go  to  your  closet,  and  there  spread 
out  your  sins  before  God,  confessing  and  giving  up  every  one, 
but  be  sure  that  you  do  it  honestly.  Hate  and  loathe  them, 
while  in  the  act  of  thus  confessing  them.  Be  sure  to  be  hon- 
est with  God."  We  say  this,  not  with  the  idea  that  it  is 
possible  for  a  sinner,  remaining  impenitent  in  heart,  to 
make  an  acceptable  confession, — but  because  we  hope  that 
the  moment  of  falling  upon  his  knees  in  solitude,  or  the  mo- 
ment of  determining  to  do  so,  or  some  other  moment  during 
the  season  of  confession,  may  be  the  one  chosen  by  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  renew  and  sanctify  the  darkened  and  sinful  soul. 
So  we  should  say,  "  You  ought  to  set  apart  a  time  every  day 
for  reading  the  Bible,  attentively  studying  it,  and  praying  at 
the  same  time  for  God's  guidance  and  blessing  in  enabling 
you  to  understand  and  do  his  will."  And  this,  not  that  we 
imagine  that  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  while  the  heart 
remains  hostile  to  God,  can  be  a  service  at  all  acceptable  to 
him, — but  because  we  hope  that  the  first  sincere  and  honest 
desire  to  do  God's  will,  may  be  awakened  by  the  renewing 
influences  of  the  Spirit,  while  the  sinner  is  in  the  attitude  of 
studying  to  know  it.  So  with  all  the  other  means  of  grace, 
and  external,  religious  duties.  The  turning  of  the  soul  to- 


PROMOTION    OP    PERSONAL    PIETY.  177 

Instructions  of  the  Bible.  Paul's  case. 

ward  them  are,  and  always  have  been,  the  occasions  which 
God  has  most  frequently  seized  upon,  to  renew  and  sanctify 
the  soul.  Inquire  of  your  religious  acquaintances  and  friends, 
and  they  will  almost  with  one  voice  tell  you  so.  One  felt 
the  first  emotions  of  penitence  arising  in  his  heart,  while  he 
was  uttering  the  language  of  penitence.  Another  first  turned 
his  soul  to  God  while  reading  of  his  holiness,  his  majesty,  his 
glory,  in  his  Word.  A  third  submitted,  while  on  his  knees  in 
prayer.  It  is  not  indeed  always  so.  We  can  assign  no  limits, 
nor  prescribe  any  universal  rule  to  the  operation  of  the  Spirit 
upon  the  heart ;  but  it  is  perfectly  safe  to  say  that  it  is  gen- 
erally so.  An  immensely  large  proportion  of  the  conversions 
which  take  place,  take  place  while  the  soul  is  in  such  an  at- 
titude as  I  have  described.  Our  duty  is,  therefore,  toward 
our  impenitent  friends,  to  endeavor  to  bring  them  into  this 
attitude.  We  must  lead  them  to  commence  immediately 
the  performance  of  every  known  duty, — charging  them,  how- 
ever, to  be  sure  that  they  do  it  with  right  feelings  of  heart. 
We  can  not  be  too  careful  in  leading  them  to  see  that  if  they 
should  do  these  things  with  hearts  still  remaining  hostile  to 
God,  instead  of  doing  any  thing  to  merit  his  favor,  they  only 
provoke  his  displeasure  more  and  more. 

We  shall  find,  on  examination,  that  the  instructions  given 
in  the  Bible,  correspond  with  these  views.  The  direction 
given  to  religious  inquirers,  is,  in  a  vast  number  of  instances 
there,  not  the  naked  and  simple  direction  to  begin  to  feel 
right,  but  to  begin  to  do  right,  in  the  exercise  of  right  feel- 
ings. See,  for  example,  John's  preaching,  our  Savior's  calls 
to  his  apostles, — the  whole  tenor  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  and,  as  a  case  peculiarly  in  point,  the  directions 
given  by  our  Savior  to  Saul. 

"  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?" 

"  Arise,"  is  the  answer,  "  and  go  into  the  city,  and  it  shall 
be  told  thee  what  thou  shalt  do."  Here  is  a  simple  act  to 

a* 


178  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

General  directions.  Philosophy  c'f  human  nature. 

be  performed  Not,  in  itself,  at  all  of  a  religious  nature ; 
but  it  was  to  be  performed  on  a  principle  of  obedience  and 
faith.  Paul  obeyed ;  and  his  'rising  to  go  into  the  city,  in 
obedience  to  his  Savior's  commands,  was  perhaps  the  com- 
mencement of  his  submission  and  his  love,  and  of  that  long- 
continued  and  most  devoted  attachment,  which  waters  could 
not  quench,  nor  floods  drown. 

In  many  other  instances,  however,  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, the  direction  is  more  general.  Repentance,  as  a 
feeling  of  the  heart,  is  directly  enjoined,  and  we  ought 
always  to  enjoin  it,  so  that  the  inquirer  may  never,  for 
a  moment,  imagine  that  any  thing  but  a  radical,  moral 
renewal  can  ever  make  him  a  child  of  God,  or  a  fit  inheritor 
of  heaven. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  how  the  operations  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  in  renewing  the  human  heart,  correspond  with  the  phi- 
losophy of  human  nature,  in  respect  to  all  other  moral  action  ; 
for  we  can,  in  all  other  cases,  best  secure  right  feeling,  by 
enjoining  a  corresponding  right  act.  If  the  Samaritan  had 
called  back  the  Levite  to  the  wounded  traveler,  and  remon- 
strated with  him  on  his  unfeeling  heart,  and  urged  him  to 
feel  more  kindly,  and  then  to  come  and  help  him  to  relieve 
the  sufferer,  he  would  probably  have  remonstrated  and  urged 
in  vain.  And  yet,  if  he  had  said,  "  Come  help  me  raise  this 
poor  sufferer  and  carry  him  to  the  inn  ;  he  will  die  if  we 
leave  him  here," — the  Levite  might  perhaps  have  responded 
to  the  appeal,  and  kind  feeling  might  have  been  awakened 
in  his  heart,  by  the  very  performance  of  a  kind  action.  So 
wfyen  Nehemiah  said  to  his  brethren,  "  Come,  let  us  build 
again  the  wall  of  Jerusalem,"  he  awoke  more  effectually  the 
spirit  of  patriotism  among  his  countrymen,  by  thus  calling 
upon  them  to  act,  than  he  could  have  done  by  the  most 
powerful  appeal  to  the  feelings  alone.  Such  is  human 
nature.  Right  sentiments,  and  right  emotions,  come  most 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL,    PIETY.  179 

Immediate  duty.  Promote  a  very  thorough  change. 

readily  in  conjunction  with  right  action,  and  God,  in  the 
operations  of  his  Spirit,  conforms  to  those  laws  of  the  human 
heart  which  he  has  himself  ordained. 

We  never  need  fear,  therefore,  pressing  upon  sinners  the 
claims  of  immediate  duty  in  action,  if  we  at  the  same  time 
press  the  indispensable  necessity  that  such  duty  should  be 
performed  under  the  impulse  of  renewed  affections.  Lead 
them  to  seek  salvation  diligently,  in  the  use  of  the  means 
which  God  has  appointed.  There  can  be  no  reasonable 
ground  of  hope  for  those  who  neglect  them. 

5.  In  all  conversation  with  religious  inquirers  we  ought 
to  feel  ourselves,  and  lead  them  to  feel,  that  entering  the 
service  of  God  is  a  very  great  step,  which  changes  the  whole 
plan  and  object,  and  alters  all  the  enjoyments  and  sufferings 
of  life.     The  Christian  who  begins  his  new  life  with  an  idea 
that  it  is  a  slight  thing,  will  never  make  a  very  efficient 
Christian.     If  we  take  any  proper  views  of  it,  it  is  a  very 
great  thing,  and  we  ought  to  take  special  care  that  all  our 
influence  over  those  who  are  seeking  salvation,  should  be 
such  as  to  lead  them  to  a  very  thorough  change.     We  must 
not  heal  the  hurt  of  sin  slightly,  and  thus  make  superficial, 
heartless    and  worldly  Christians, — to  do  nothing  while  they 
live  but  hover  about  the  line  between  the  friends  and  the 
enemies   of  God,  and  thus  obliterate  the  distinction  which 
God  intended  to  have  as  strongly  marked  as  possible.     Let 
it  be  a  pure,  a  devoted,  a  thorough- going  piety  which  our 
efforts  may  help  to  spread. 

6.  At  the  same   time  we  should  be  pleased  with  every 
approximation  to  what  is  right.     If  men  will  not  actually  do 
their  duty,   the    nearer  they  come  to  doing   it  the  better. 
And  yet  there  is  a  very  common  impression  that  it  is  not  so. 
It  is  very  often  said,  for  example,  that  there  is  more  hope 
for  an  open  enemy  of  religion,  than  of  one  who  is  upright,  and 
moral,  and  regular  in  outward  observances.     But  it  is  the 


180  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Approximation  desirable.  It  lessens  danger,  though  not  guilt. 

love  of  paradox  which  gives  such  a  sentiment  currency 
among  mankind.  Let  any  one  look  at  the  history  of  any 
church  with  which  he  has  been  connected,  and  inquire  from 
what  classes  of  the  community,  the  greatest  number  of  addi- 
tions to  it  have  been  made.  It  will  be  found,  almost  uni- 
versally, that  though  there  may  be  many  detached  instances 
of  the  conversion  of  the  infidel  or  the  reviler,  the  profligate, 
the  bold  and  open  enemy  of  God, — yet  that  these  cases  are 
comparatively  few.  The  great  majority  of  admissions  to  the 
Christian  church  are  from  the  class  of  the  moral,  the  thought- 
ful, the  regular  attendants  upon  Christian  worship,  and  the 
readers  of  his  Word.  When  religion  is  revived,  numbers 
from  this  class  arise,  give  up  their  sins,  and  enter  the  service 
of  God  ;  and  others  are  brought  into  their  places  to  become 
themselves  the  subjects  of  renewing  grace  at  a  future  time. 
Let  no  one  infer  from  this,  that  a  man  is  any  the  less  guilty 
of  neglecting  and  disobeying  God,  because  he  is  regular  and 
upright  in  the  performance  of  his  outward  duties.  I  have 
not  said  that  he  is  the  less  guilty,  but  only  that  he  is  in  less 
danger.  His  danger  is  indeed  appalling, — if  he  could  but 
see  it, — appalling  in  living  even  for  a  day  in  sin,  when  he 
is  every  moment  liable  to  be  called  into  eternity.  Still  it  is 
less  than  if  he  were  the  open  and  avowed  enemy  of  religion. 
So  that  if  we  really  wish  to  save  men,  we  shall  desire  to 
bring  them  as  near  as  we  can  to  salvation.  Induce  as  many 
as  possible  to  enter  the  narrow  way,  and  then  bring  as  many 
more  as  possible  up  near  to  the  gate  ;  and  those  which  are 
more  remote,  and  will  not  come  near  to  it,  perhaps  may  be 
induced  to  approach  a  little.  All  approximation,  while  it 
does  not  diminish  their  sin,  may  diminish  their  danger. 

If,  for  instance,  you  have  a  neighbor  who  hates  religion 
and  its  friends,  and  has  walled  himself  in,  so  that  you  can 
gain  no  access  to  him  with  religious  truth,  you  can  do  him 
a  kindness,  if  opportunity  offers,  and  thus  connect  in  his  mind 


PROMOTION   OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  181 

Cases.  Gradual  progress.  A  family  brought  near. 

one  pleasant  association  with  a  religious  man.  It  is  one  step. 
A  small  one,  I  grant ;  but  its  influence  is,  so  far  as  it  has 
any  influence,  to  bring  him  a  little  more  within  the  reach 
of  a  call  which  may  ultimately  awaken  him.  He  remains 
quite  as  much  the  enemy  of  God,  as  before, — quite  as  hostile, 
quite  as  inexcusable, — but  his  case  is  not  quite  so  hopeless. 
In  the  same  manner,  if  there  is  near  you  a  family  living  in 
heathen  indifference  and  neglect  of  the  ordinances  of  God, 
and  you  can  bring  them  to  his  house,  and  aid  them  to  find 
their  regular  seat  there,  and  lend  them  suitable  books  for  the 
Sabbath,  and  introduce  the  children  into  the  Sabbath-school, 
— you  will  have  made  important  progress,  though  perhaps 
every  member  of  that  family  may  be  as  decidedly  the  enemy 
of  God,  and  as  fully  obnoxious  to  his  displeasure  afterward, 
as  before.  You  have  made  progress,  for  you  have  brought 
them  fairly  within  that  circle,  over  which  the  waters  of 
salvation  flow  :  and  in  years  to  come  there  will  probably  be 
found  among  the  children  and  children's  children  of  that 
family,  many  a  Christian  household,  and  many  a  saved  soul, 
— though  your  effort,  in  its  immediate  results,  did  not,  in  the 
least,  diminish  the  moral  distance  which  separated  the  ob- 
jects of  it  from  God.  And  once  more.  If  you  have  within 
the  circle  of  your  acquaintance,  persons  of  upright  and  moral 
character,  and  you  can  induce  them  to  read  the  Scriptures 
daily,  and  to  establish  family  prayer,  even  if  they  continue 
unchanged,  your  labor  is  not  lost.  They  are  not  indeed 
made  half  Christians.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  half 
Christian.  They  remain  the  enemies  of  God,  while  their 
hearts  are  alienated  from  him  ;  the  more  clearly  the  light 
of  the  gospel  shines  around  them,  the  more  evident  and 
striking  will  appear  their  guilt,  when  God  calls  them  to 
account.  Still,  though  there  may  be  no  piety,  there  is  a 
slight  increase  of  hope.  You  bring  them  habitually  under 
the  influence  of  the  truth,  and  tbis  is  the  only  means  by 


182  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Approximation  to  right  opinions.  The  greatest  error  the  most  dangerous. 

which  they  can  be  saved  ; — and  every  approach  to  what  is 
right,  quickens  the  moral  sensibilities,  and  makes  the  next 
step  easier. 

In  the  same  manner,  approximation  toward  right  opinions 
is  always  desirable.  It  is  better  to  be  a  Deist,  than  an 
Atheist ;  and  a  nominal  Christian,  however  heartless,  than 
either.  It  is  better  to  receive  the  New  Testament  only,  as  a 
revelation,  than  to  reject  both  old  and  new.  He  who  ac- 
knowledges God,  but  rejects  a  Savior,  is  not  in  a  condition 
so  desperate  as  he  who  rejects  both  Maker  and  Savior  too. 
Persons  embracing  a  corrupted  or  defective  form  of  Christi- 
anity, are  more  accessible,  conscience  is  more  easily  awa- 
kened, conviction  of  sin  and  penitence  are  more  readily  felt, 
than  under  the  deadening  influence  of  paganism.  Many  of 
my  readers  may  have  been  accustomed  to  think  differently. 
The  truth  is  that  we  have  generally  the  most  controversy  with 
those  who  differ  the  least  from  us,  and  so  we  magnify  and 
exaggerate  the  importance  of  the  difference,  and  say  in  the 
ardor  of  our  zeal,  that  our  immediate  opponents  are  doing 
more  injury  than  those  who  reject  a  great  deal  more.  But 
if  we  look  at  facts,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  not  so.  If  we 
take  any  community  which  is  divided  into  various  sects, 
holding  every  form  and  degree  of  error,  from  pure  evangelical 
Christianity,  down  to  open  Atheism,  we  shall  find  that  the 
spread  of  real  piety  among  all  these  classes,  will  bear  a 
pretty  just  proportion  to  the  distance  at  which  they  respec- 
tively stand  from  the  standard  of  scripture  truth.  Instead, 
therefore,  of  looking  with  a  jealous  and  malignant  eye  upon 
those  who  differ  least  from  us,  we  should  be  glad  to  have 
them  as  near  us  as  they  are  ;  and  while  we  do  every  thing 
in  our  power  to  keep  the  standard  of  piety  among  the  follow- 
ers of  Jesus  Christ  elevated,  and  the  standard  of  doctrine 
pure,  we  should  rejoice  at  every  approximation  which  we 
can  effect,  either  toward  the  one  or  the  other. 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY.  183 

Caution.  Dependence  on  divine  influences. 

It  would  be  wrong  to  bring  this  chapter  to  a  close,  without 
reminding  the  reader  once  more,  in  the  most  distinct  and 
emphatic  manner,  that  his  only  hope  of  success  in  his  efforts 
to  save  his  fellow-men,  is  in  divine  influences  exerted  upon 
the  heart,  in  connection  with  his  endeavors.  We  have  no 
new  truths  to  present  to  the  minds  of  men,  and  no  new 
means  to  try.  Our  friends  and  neighbors  who  arc  living  in 
sin  know  all  that  we  can  tell  them ;  and  in  repeating  efforts 
which  have  been  made  before,  in  vain,  our  only  hope  must 
be  in  the  renewing  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Besides,  if 
we  were  coming  to  our  fellow-men  with  the  first  tidings 
which  ever  reached  them  of  God,  and  duty,  and  judgment 
to  come,  we  could  expect,  if  unaided,  nothing  but  unquali- 
fied and  universal  rejection  of  the  claims  of  religious  duty. 
Persuasion,  which  is  often  powerful  in  altering  human  con- 
duct, can  never  change  the  human  heart.  You  may  per- 
suade a  proud,  ambitious  man,  to  take  this  or  that  course  to 
gain  his  objects,  but  you  can  never  persuade  him  to  be 
humble.  Men  generally  dislike  and  loathe  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing God  present  with  them  at  all  times,  and  you  can  never 
reason  them  into  loving  it.  The  experiment  would  be  like 
that  of  the  foolish  nurse,  who  attempts  to  make  the  shrink- 
ing child  believe  that  the  medicine  she  offers  him  is  pleasant 
to  the  taste.  She  argues,  entreats,  assures,  but  all  in  vain, 
— the  palate,  whose  revolting  tendencies  lie  beyond  the  reach 
of  such  means,  still  rebels.  And  so  with  the  unrenewed  soul 
of  man :  the  difficulty  with  him  is  not  ignorance,  it  is  not 
darkness,  it  is  not  mistake  ;  but  it  is  that  spiritual  pleasures, 
growth  in  holiness,  and  the  happiness  of  union  with  God,  are 
exactly  what  he  most  dislikes,  and  most  wishes  to  shun  ;  and 
the  more  distinctly  and  clearly  you  present  salvation  to  him, 
— for  it  is  these  things  which  salvation  means, — the  moro 
plainly  he  understands  what  it  is,  and  the  more  decidedly,  if 
left  to  himself,  will  he  reject  it.  It  is,  therefore,  not  enough 


184  THE   WAY   TO   DO   GOOD. 

Perfection  of  nature,  and  moral  ruin  of  man. 

to  say  that  the  work  to  he  done  in  saving  men  from  sin  is 
too  great,  in  degree,  for  our  powers,  hut  it  is  removed,  hy  its 
very  nature,  from  the  field  in  which  we  can  exercise  them ; 
and  if  we  rightly  understand  this,  if  we  see  the  subject  in* 
the  light  in  which  both  the  Bible,  and  a  sound  philosophy 
exhibit  it,  we  shall  work  humbly  while  we  work  diligently  ; 
and  when  God  gives  success  to  our  efforts,  by  the  renewing 
agency  of  his  Spirit,  our  hearts  will  glide  spontaneously  into 
the  ascription,  "  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  God  be 
all  the  glory." 

In  a  word, — our  efforts  to  do  good  in  this  world,  in  order 
to  be  successful,  must  be  grounded  on  the  fact  that  it  is  a 
world  lost  in  sin.  It  is  strange  that  even  philosophers,  not 
to  say  professed  Christians,  could  ever  have  doubted  this. 
It  would  seem  that  every  one  must  be  at  once  convinced 
of  it,  by  contrasting  the  admirable  success  of  all  the  other 
works  of  God,  in  answering  their  purposes,  with  the  con- 
spicuous and  universal  failure  of  man,  as  a  moral  being,  to 
answer  his.  Let  the  eye  rove  over  this  visible  creation,  and 
observe  our  fruitful  fields,  our  splendid  skies,  our  glorious 
sun.  Watch  the  movements  and  the  changes  which  the 
elements  undergo,  and  see  how  admirably  heat  and  cold, — 
vapor,  hail  and  snow, — the  rolling  ocean,  and  the  soaring 
cloud,  do  the  bidding  of  God,  and  accomplish  to  perfection, 
their  purposes.  Whether  you  regard  the  grandeur  of  design, 
or  the  mightiness  of  execution,  or  the  inconceivable  perfec- 
tion in  the  finish  of  details,  all  will  impress  you  with  an  idea 
of  the  lofty  standard  which  the  Great  Architect  has  aimed 
at,  and  reached,  in  all  his  works.  You  may  go  into  the 
forest  and  examine,  as  minutely  as  you  please,  the  most  un- 
known and  concealed  wild  flower  which  grows  there.  Look 
at  its  form,  its  colors, — the  grace  and  beauty  of  its  move- 
ments, as  it  waves  in  the  wind,  whose  movements  are  ad- 


PROMOTION    OF    PERSONAL    PIETY. 


185 


Man  a  moral  wreck. 


THE  WILD  FLOWERS. 


justed     to     an     exact 

equilibrium    with   the  ^Pifeb. 

,  ,       . .  -      vbMBSst-        _ud& 

strength    and    pliancy 

of  its  stem.  Observe 
the  mechanism  by 
which  the  seed  is  pro- 
duced, and  the  perfec- 
tion of  its  structure 
when  formed  and  pack- 
ed with  a  hundred 
others,  as  perfect  as 
itself,  in  its  little  cap- 
sule. Or  look  at  the 
insect  creeping  upp/i 
its  stalk,  so  minute 
that  you  must  mag- 
nify it  a  hundred  times 

to  distinguish  the  brilliancy  of  its  coloring  and  the  perfection 
of  its  members.  Or  if  you  wish  to  take  a  specimen  on  a 
larger  scale,  look  into  the  heavens,  and  study  the  arrange- 
ments and  the  motions  of  the  solar  system ;  and  consider  the 
admirable  success  of  these  arrangements  in  producing  here 
the  change  of  day  and  night,  summer  and  winter,  and  all 
the  agreeable  vicissitudes  of  the  year.  Study  the  movements 
of  the  great  machine,  and  find  if  you  can,  the  jar,  or  the 
friction,  or  the  irregularity.  It  has  been  in  ceaseless  motion 
for  forty  centuries, — time,  one  would  think,  to  test  the  me- 
chanism. 

But  when  you  come  to  look  at  man,  considered  as  a  moral 
and  social  being,  gathered  into  communities  here,  to  accom- 
plish those  purposes  of  holiness  and  happiness  which  a  benev- 
olent Deity  must  have  intended,  in  calling  moral  and  sen- 
tient beings  into  existence,  you  see  a  most  conspicuous  and 
terrible  case  of  failure.  The  plans  which  God  has  formed 


186  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Conclusion. 

for  his  social  prosperity  and  happiness,  are  all  deranged  by 
his  sins.  The  family,  the  home,  the  connection  which  binds 
parent  to  child,  and  child  to  parent,  the  social  relations 
which  link  society  together,  all  these  intended  foundations  of 
happiness,  are  poisoned  and  spoiled  by  sin.  Yes,  all  physical 
nature  is  great  and  glorious, — but  man  is  degraded  and  in 
ruins.  Every  thing  else  is  right,  but  his  heart  is  Avrong. 
The  object  of  his  being  he  does  not  accomplish ;  the  happi- 
ness which  is  within  his  reach,  and  which  he  was  made  to 
enjoy,  he  does  not  gain ;  and  he  stands  forth  in  the  view  of 
all  the  intelligent  creation,  a  mournful  spectacle  of  ruin. 
It  would  seem  that  no  man  who  would  candidly  look  at  the 
facts,  could  ever  for  a  moment  imagine  that  the  world  is  at 
all  in  the  moral  and  social  condition  in  which  God  intended 
it  to  be.  No,  it  is  a  world  in  ruins, — "  a  moral  wreck,  and 
our  business  is,  while  we  live  here,  to  save  as  many  from  it 
as  we  can." 


rustic  MORALS  187 


Influence  of  Christianity  on  the  community.  Christian  and  Pagan  countries. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PUBLIC     MORALS. 

'•  By  manifestation  of  the  truth,  commending  ourselves  to  every  man's  conscience 
in  the  sight  of  God." 

CHRISTIANITY  has  not  only  the  power  to  secure  eternal  life 
to  those  who  personally  yield  to  her  claims, — she  also  exerts 
a  vast  influence  in  purifying  and  preserving  the  whole  social 
community.  She  has,  however,  done  less  than  Christian 
writers  have  often  claimed  for  her.  She  has  not  yet  infused 
moral  principle  into  the  mass  of  any  extended  populace,  so 
as  to  prevent  the  necessity  of  governing  them  by  physical 
force  ;  and  it  is  actually  difficult  to  ascertain,  from  the  con- 
tradictory reports  of  intelligent  travelers,  whether  life  and 
property  are  safer,  and  the  state  of  public  morals  less  corrupt, 
in  Paris  or  London,  than  they  are  at  Constantinople,  or  on 
the  banks  of  the  Hoang-ho. 

We  say  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain, — the  difference  is  so 
much  less  than  it  ought  to  be.  The  inquiry,  fairly  made, 
however,  gives  a  result  greatly  in  favor  of  Christendom. 
Life  and  property  are  safer,  and  public  morals  are  far,  very 
far  less  corrupted  in  English  villages,  among  the  hills  and 
valleys  of  Scotland,  in  Germany,  France,  Italy,  and  New 
England, — than  on  the  shores  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  or  on  the 
plains  of  China,  or  in  Syria  or  Java,  or  on  the  banks  of  the 
Niger  and  the  Nile.  And  the  difference  is  greater  in  reality, 
than  in  appearance,  for  we  must  consider,  not  only  the  actual 


188  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Crime  and  punishment  in  Boston : — in  Constantinople. 

state  of  public  order  which  prevails,  but  the  comparative  de- 
gree  of  governmental  pressure,  which  is  found  necessary  in 
the  respective  countries,  to  secure  it.  The  quiet  and  peace 
which  reign  in  the  interior  of  Christian  countries,  are  main- 
tained by  a  far  lighter  hand,  than  that  which  is  necessary 
to  control  a  community  of  Mohammedans  or  Pagans.  A 
criminal  in  Boston  has  a  remote  and  uncertain  prospect  of 
suffering  before  him,  to  deter  him  from  crime.  There  is  his 
hope  of  escaping  detection, — for  there  is  no  argus-eyed  police 
or  watchful  spy  taking  note  of  his  movements.  Then  there 
are  the  forms  through  which  he  must  pass,  the  extreme 
scrupulousness  with  which  every  evidence  against  him,  not 
strictly  legal,  will  be  rejected  ;  the  ingenuity  of  his  advocate  ; 
the  feelings  or  the  doubts  of  his  jury ;  and,  lastly,  the  calm 
impartiality  of  his  judge,  under  the  influence  of  no  wish,  but 
to  make  the  punishment  as  light  as  justice  will  possibly  allow. 
How  different  from  the  stern  and  unfeeling  severity  with 
which  the  criminal  of  Constantinople  is  taken  to  the  nearest 
officer  of  justice, — who  is  perhaps  responsible  for  the  order 
of  his  district  with  his  head,  and  there,  without  ceremony  or 
delay,  bastinadoed,  hung,  drowned,  strangled,  or  impaled. 
Yes ;  to  ascertain  the  power  of  Christianity  upon  the  con- 
dition of  the  community,  we  must  take  into  view,  not  only 
the  degree  of  public  order  which  Christian  and  unchristian 
countries  secure,  but  the  comparative  amount  of  despotic 
pressure  and  severity  which  they  find  necessary  in  order  to 
secure  it; 

The  truth  is,  that  a  certain  degree  of  regard  for  life  and 
property,  and  of  public  order,  is  necessary  for  the  very  exist- 
ence of  society  ;  and  governments  insensibly  assume  the  de- 
gree of  power,  be  it  more  or  less,  which  may  be  necessary  to 
secure  this.  So  that  the  influence  of  Christianity  upon  a  na- 
tion will  show  itself,  at  first,  not  so  much  in  lessening  the 
amount  of  vice  and  sin,  as  in  diminishing  the  pressure  neces- 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  189 


Influence  of  Christianity.  Design  of  this  chapter. 

sary  to  keep  it  within  bounds.  It  lightens  the  hand  of  gov- 
ernment and  softens  its  asperities.  For  it  is  public  opinion 
which  supports  even  the  strongest  governments, — an  opinion 
based  on  the  necessity  of  suppressing  disorder  and  crime. 
Christianity,  by  diminishing  the  tendency  to  disorder,  com- 
pels government  to  lighten  its  hand.  We  see,  therefore,  in 
the  comparative  mildness  and  gentleness  of  Christian  govern- 
ments, a  tribute  to  the  salutary  influence  of  Christianity. 
But  when  we  make  the  influence  which  she  has  exerted  as 
great  as  we  honestly  can,  by  this  and  other  considerations, 
how  far  is  it  below  what  it  ought  to  have  been.  How  sad 
is  the  moral  and  social  condition  of  the  most  highly  christian- 
ized country  on  the  globe.  How  much  is  yet  to  be  done  in 
England  and  America,  in  removing  abuses,  arresting  the 
progress  of  public  vice,  and  in  carrying  the  light  and  the 
happy  influence  of  the  gospel  into  the  great  mass  of  society. 
How  many  wrongs  are  yet  unredressed ;  how  many  vices 
yet  unrestrained ;  how  many  unnecessary  sorrows  and  suf- 
ferings reign  everywhere,  which  Christianity,  even  in  its  in- 
direct influence,  might  easily  remove. 

This  chapter  is  to  be  devoted  to  a  consideration  of  this 
subject ; — the  way  by  which  Christianity  is  to  produce  its 
salutary  effect  upon  the  moral  and  social  condition  of  the 
community.  Of  course,  the  reader  will  not  expect  a  specific- 
plan  of  operations,  for  the  removal  of  particular  evils.  These 
will  vary  with  the  nature  of  the  evil  to  be  remedied,  and  the 
extent  of  the  moral  means  which  may  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  it.  Our  design  will  therefore  be,  not  to  lay  down  plans 
of  proceeding  for  particular  cases,  but  to  bring  to  view  such 
general  considerations  as  ought  to  be  kept  in  mind,  and  al- 
lowed to  influence  our  measures,  and  regulate  the  feelings 
of  the  heart  with  which  we  attempt  to  carry  our  measures 
into  effect. 

1.  It  is  a  very  serious  question,  and  one  which  the  Chris- 


190  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  Christian's  appropriate  work. 

tian  community  ought  to  consider  well,  how  far  we  are  to 
leave  our  appropriate  work  of  directly  building  up  the  king- 
dom of  Christ  for  the  purpose  of  going  forth  into  the  world 
to  correct  evils  and  abuses  which  reign  there.  No  one  who 
understands  at  all  the  nature  of  sin  and  its  remedy,  can  doubt 
that  our  great  work  here,  is  to  bring  as  many  individual 
souls  as  possible  to  actual  repentance,  and  to  raise  the  stan- 
dard of  holiness  among  those  thus  changed,  to  the  highest 
point.  This  is  laboring  directly  to  promote  the  kingdom  of 
Christ, — the  extension  of  its  walls,  and  the  purification  and 
spiritual  prosperity  of  all  within.  This  is  the  true  way  by 
which  the  remedy  for  sin  is  ultimately  to  reach  the  full  ex- 
tent of  the  disease.  The  plan  of  Jesus  Christ  for  saving  the 
world,  is  not  mainly  that  the  indirect  influence  of  Christi- 
anity upon  the  public  conscience  shall  gradually  meliorate 
the  moral  condition  of  unsanctified  men  in  a  mass,  but  that 
these  men  shall,  one  by  one,  be  brought  to  conviction  and 
thorough  repentance,  and  made  in  succession  his  followers 
and  friends ;  not  restrained  a  little,  as  a  community,  from 
their  worst  vices,  by  the  indirect  influence  of  the  gospel,  but 
changed  thoroughly,  as  individuals,  into  new  creatures  in 
him.  It  is,  therefore,  to  promote  the  spread  of  this  individual, 
personal  piety,  that  constitutes  the  great  object  at  which  we 
should  aim.  The  other  is  secondary.  It  is  occasional.  Still, 
it  has  its  claims.  We  are  citizens  of  a  community,  as  well 
as  members  of  a  church,  and  each  relation  gives  rise  to  its 
appropriate  duties.  Cases  often  have  occurred,  in  the  history 
of  Christendom,  and  are  now  continually  occurring,  in  which 
religious  men  may  go  forth  with  advantage  into  the  great 
community,  and  accomplish  vast  good  by  the  power  of  a  moral 
influence,  more  efficient  in  its  appropriate  sphere  than  legis- 
lative enactments,  or  military  force.  Generally,  however, 
the  province  of  Christian  labor  lies  in  a  different  region  ;  and 
the  influence  which  piety  is  to  exert  upon  the  great  unsanc- 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  191 


Relation  to  the  community. 


tified  mass  of  mind  which  envelops  it,  is  indirect,  spontaneous, 
collateral;  an  influence  which  follows  of  its  own  accord, 
while  the  Christian  is  intent  upon  his  own  proper  work  of 
extending  pure  and  thorough  personal  piety. 

2.  When  we  go  out  to  act  thus  upon  society,  we  must  re- 
memher  that  we  act  as  members  of  a  community  which  is 
under  one  common  responsibility  with  us  to  God,  and  that 
those  whom  we  are  endeavoring  to  influence  are  not  respon- 
sible to  us.  The  evils  which  we  attempt  to  prevent  or  miti- 
gate, are  sins  against  God,  and  they  who  commit  them,  are 
accountable  to  him  for  their  guilt, — not  to  their  fellow-men. 

Of  course  by  the  evils  here  referred  to  is  meant  only  the 
acts  or  habits  of  men  considered  simply  in  the  light  of  per- 
sonal sins.  So  far  as  the  wicked  acts  of  men  disturb  or  en- 
danger the  peace  or  safety  of  the  community,  so  far,  of 
course,  society,  as  an  organized  power,  has  a  right  to  repress 
them  in  self-protection,  and  Christian  men  as  a  portion  of 
the  state  may  rightfully  jftin  in  the  exercise  of  this  coercion. 
In  regard,  however,  to  the  personal  sins  of  men,  considered 
as  sins  against  God,  we  must  remember  that  men  are  ac- 
countable to  God  for  them,  and  not  to  us ;  and  this  should 
influence  the  tone  and  spirit  with  which  we  should  ap- 
proach them.  We  are  like  children  whose  father  is  away, 
and  if  some  do  wrong  the  others  are  not  clothed  with  any 
authority  to  arrest  or  punish  it.  The  only  remedy  is  the 
gentle  moral  influence  which  one  child  may  properly  exert 
upon  another. 

A  father  sometimes,  in  such  a  case,  returns,  and  finds  an 
older  child  dictating  with  earnest  gesticulations  and  impe- 
rious tone  its  duty  to  another.  He  stands  before  the  little  de- 
linquent, putting  down  his  foot  with  an  air  of  authoritative 
command,  and  insisting  upon  some  supposed  duty  with  the 
language,  and  tone,  and  manner  which  perhaps  he  has 
caught  from  some  extreme  exercise  of  authority,  on  the  part 
of  his  father. 


192 


THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 


A  common  scene  at  home. 


Persuasion. 


ASSUMED  AUTHORITY. 


The  parent,  coming 
in  suddenly  in  the  midst 
of  this»scene,  remon- 
strates. "  Why,"  says 
the  child.  "  I  am  only 
trying  to  make  him  do 
what  you  tell  him.  Is 
not  that,"  describing 
what  he  was  endeavor- 
ing to  enforce,  "  what 
you  tell  him  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the 
parent,  "that  is  what 
he  ought  to  do,  hut 
you  have  no  authority 
to  make  him  do  it. 
Your  power  over  your 
little  brother  is  persuasion, — not  authority." 

Now  there  are  many  such  scenes  as  these,  acted  among 
other  children  than  those  which  play  around  the  fireside. 
For  human  laws,  restraining  outward  injury  by  man  against 
man,  there  is,  indeed,  human  authority.  But  for  the  divine 
law,  as  God  is  the  sole  avenger  of  it,  so  he  alone  may  speak 
with  the  tone  of  authority  and  command.  We  are  all,  in 
icspect  to  those  moral  duties  and  relations  which  human  laws 
do  not  cover,  only  children  of  one  common  Father,  and  the 
tone  which  we  should  assume  toward  our  fellow-men,  is 
that  tone  of  gentle  and  unassuming,  though  clear  and  fear- 
less, and  decided  moral  influence  which  one  child  may  prop- 
erly assume  toward  another. 

3.  It  follows  as  a  necessary  inference  from  the  last  head, 
or  rather,  as  an  expansion  of  it,  that  our  work,  when  we  at- 
tempt to  act  upon  the  community,  is  the  work  of  persuasion. 
If  we  assume  the  air  and  tone  of  censorious  authority,  we  fail 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  193 


Resistance  of  unauthorized  power.  Christians  in  the  minority. 

entirely  of  our  object  with  those  whom  we  endeavor  to  influ- 
ence. Usurped  authority  always  invites  resistance.  The 
little  child  will  resist  the  unauthorized  dominion  of  his  older 
brother :  and  how  seldom,  in  the  history  of  nations,  has  an 
usurper  maintained  a  permanent  seat  upon  the  throne.  The 
dynasties  of  Cromwell  and  of  Napoleon  expired  with  their 
founders,  as  'the  dynasties  of  usurpers  almost  always  will. 
Even  where  men  have  no  special  objection  to  the  thing 
which  is  to  be  done,  they  will  be  led  to  resist  it,  sometimes 
by  the  mere  air  and  tone  of  compulsion,  coming  from  a  quar- 
ter where  they  feel  that  there  is  no  proper  authority.  Thus 
the  human  heart  may,  in  a  thousand  cases,  be  easily  led, 
when  it  can  not  be  driven  by  those  who  have  no  right  to 
drive.  It  results  from  that  instinctive  principle  of  human 
nature  which  leads  man  to  arouse  himself  to  the  resistance 
of  all  unauthorized  power. 

Now,  although  good  men  seldom  endeavor  actually  to 
force  a  moral  reform  upon  the  community  by  physical  com- 
pulsion, they  do  not  unfrequently  assume  such  a  tone  and  air 
of  authority,  as  produces,  in  a  great  degree,  the  same  ill 
effects.  We  ought  to  guard  against  this  ;  and  we  may  easily 
guard  against  it,  by  taking  a  correct  view  of  our  place  and 
province,  as  individual  members  of  God's  great  family.  We, 
as  well  as  others,  and  others  as  well  as  we,  are  independently 
responsible  for  our  moral  conduct  to  our  common  Father 
So  that  moral  suasion,  and  influences  analogous  to  it,  are  our 
only  sources  of  power. 

4.  We  must  remember  that  the  true  servants  of  God  in 
this  world  are  in  a  very  small  minority,  and  consequently 
that  they  can  do  nothing  by  force.  So  that  the  view  given 
under  the  last  head  is  not  only  correct  in  theory,  but  it  is  the 
only  one  which  can  be  successful  in  practice.  We  are  in  a 
very  small  minority, — so  that  unless  the  case  is  a  very  extra 
ordinary  one  indeed,  giving  us  an  immense  aid  from  the 

I 


194  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Weakened  by  intestine  divisions.  Denominational  jealousies. 

power  of  the  public  conscience,  we  can  not  conquer  in  open 
war.  We  can  not  know  the  numerical  ratio  which  the 
friends  of  God  in  this  world,  bear  to  his  enemies ;  but  every 
one  who  has  any  proper  idea  of  what  a  life  of  penitence  and 
faith  is, —  a  habitual  preference  of  duties  toward  God  and  the 
interests  of  eternity,  over  the  pursuits  and  pleasures  of  time 
and  sense, — will  admit  that  this  ratio  is  yet  very  small.  We 
should  have  to  make  a  very  large  deduction,  from  even  the 
number  of  communicants  in  the  churches,  for  hypocrites  and 
worldly-minded  Christians,  who,  in  any  open  contest,  will  al- 
ways throw  their  influence  with  the  world.  Thus  in  the 
contest  between  right  and  wrong,  as  it  is  going  on  at  the 
present  time,  even  in  the  most  favored  nation  in  Christen- 
dom, the  armies  are  very  unequally  matched  in  respect  to 
numbers,  and  we  therefore  can  expect  little  success  in  open 
war. 

5.  Our  own  internal  divisions  and  jealousies  make  us 
weaker  than  the  mere  inspection  of  our  numbers  would  indi- 
cate. How  often  is  it  that  one  denomination,  or  one  theolog- 
ical party,  shows  itself  far  more  afraid  of  the  progress  of  the 
opposing  one,  than  of  the  progress  of  sin.  Thus  many  a 
measure  originating  in  one  quarter  of  the  Christian  commu- 
nity, finds  hostility,  or  a  feeling  of  jealousy  equally  fatal,  in 
another  ;  and  the  Congregationalist  joins  with  the  infidel  to 
thwart  Episcopal  plans,  or  Baptist  and  Deist  combine  to  pre- 
vent Congregational  ascendency.  It  is  not  always  so.  There 
is  often  a  praiseworthy  co-operation ;  but  while  the  different 
branches  of  the  church  place  as  much  stress  as  they  do  now 
upon  their  distinctive  forms  of  organization  and  discipline, 
questions  of  public  morals  will  often  become  involved  with 
questions  of  ecclesiastical  strife.  This  danger  we  should  con- 
sider. It  certainly  is  a  very  important  element  to  be  taken 
into  the  account,  in  estimating  the  moral  force  which  the 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  195 


Drawing  lines,  and  Betting  the  battle  in  array. 


Christian  community  can  command,  in  its  contests  with  a 
wicked  world  on  questions  of  public  morals. 

6.  It  follows  from  the  preceding  considerations,  that  we 
ought  to  be  cautious  how  we  get  the  community  divided 
into  parties, — the  church  and  the  world  arrayed  one  against 
another  in  open  war.  We  are  not  strong  enough  for  such 
contests,  and  if  we  were,  victory  would  be  hardly  worth  the 
gaining. 

First,  I  say,  we  are  not  strong  enough.  This  is  evident 
from  the  preceding  heads  ;  and  the  moral  history  of  all  Chris- 
tian communities  confirm  it.  Whenever,  on  any  moral  ques- 
tion, the  lines  have  been  drawn,  and  sides  taken,  and  a  con- 
test commenced,  the  success  has  been  almost  invariably  on 
the  wrong  side.  This  has  always  been  the  case  whether  the 
arena  of  the  conflict  has  been  in  the  competition  of  business, 
or  in  the  enforcement  of  laws  unsupported  by  public  opinion, 
or  in  balloting  at  the  polls.  The  majority  on  the  side  of 
worldliness  and  sin  is  altogether  too  great  yet,  to  be  over- 
come in  any  such  way.  We  can  neither  conquer  the  wicked 
in  an  open  contest,  or  run  them  down  in  competition,  or  out- 
vote them  at  elections,  or  outnumber  them  in  mustering  our 
followers,  or  baffle  them  in  maneuvering.  We  may  exert 
an  immense  influence  over  them  and  over  the  whole  com- 
munity, by  the  power  of  moral  suasion,  and  by  the  gentle, 
unassuming  influence  of  personal  piety  ;  but  when  it  comes 
to  drawing  lines  and  forming  parties  in  array,  setting  one  side 
against  the  other,  there  is  scarcely  any  question  in  public 
morals  which  can  stand  the  struggle. 

And  yet  we  often  take  such  a  stand,  and  assume  such  a 
tone  that  the  mass  of  the  community  feel  themselves  chal- 
lenged to  a  war.  They  begin  to  array  themselves  then 
against  us.  Watchwords  and  symbols  are  gradually  adopted 
on  both  sides.  On  the  one  part,  religious  zeal,  and  on  the 
other,  enmity  to  God,  is  fanned  and  inflamed  by  mutual  oppo- 


196  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

A  wrong  spirit.  Its  effect*. 

sition.  The  lines  of  demarkation  become  continually  more 
distinct,  and  defeat  to  the  right  is  the  almost  invariable  re- 
sult of  the  battle.  There  may  be  some  few  and  rare  excep- 
tions, but  while  the  minority  on  the  side  of  duty  is  as  small 
as  it  is  now,  and  while  that  small  minority  is  so  divided  and 
weakened  by  intestine  dissensions,  the  exceptions  must  be  ex- 
ceedingly few  and  rare. 

Then,  again,  the  victory  in  such  a  contest,  if  obtained, 
would  be  scarcely  worth  the  gaining.  To  put  down  sin  by 
superior  force,  is  but  putting  a  constraint  upon  human  de- 
sires, whereas,  the  thing  to  be  done  is  to  change  the  nature 
of  those  desires.  We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  former  is 
never  desirable,  but  that  it  is  only  by  the  latter  that  the  real 
kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ  is  to  be  extended  in  the  world. 
What  we  wish  is,  to  bring  men  to  abandon  sin  themselves, 
as  individuals,  on  their  own  individual,  personal,  single,  free 
will.  And  it  is  only  so  far  as  this  is  done,  that  any  rejil  pro- 
gress is  made,  in  bringing  back  this  lost  world  to  its  Maker. 
Let  us  proceed,  then,  in  all  our  efforts,  with  a  proper  under- 
standing of  the  true  nature  of  the  work  which  we  have  to  do, 
and  of  the  moral  means  which  we  possess  of  effecting  it ;  and 
avoid  a  course,  when  we  can  avoid  it,  which  will  awaken 
and  concentrate  hostility  to  our  cause,  and  thus  unite  the 
enemies  of  piety  and  bring  them  to  bay. 

7.  Our  plans  for  promoting  the  moral  improvement  of  the 
community  are  often  impeded  by  this  cause,  namely,  that  we 
gradually  connect  with  our  efforts  something  wrong  in  the 
spirit  which  we  exhibit,  or  in  the  measures  that  we  adopt, 
and  the  result  is  that  the  attention  of  the  community  is  turned 
away  from  the  great  moral  evil  itself,  which  we  wish  to  cor- 
rect, and  fixed  upon  the  comparatively  little  evils  which  creep 
into  our  mode  of  correcting  it.  Just  as  in  •  an  argument,  if 
one  overstates  a  fact  a  very  little,  or  presses  a  point  a  very 
little  farther  than  it  will  bear, — his  antagonist  will  imme- 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  197 


The  true  tactics.  Wrong  feelings. 

diately  seize  upon  that  excess,  and  endeavor  to  transfer  the 
contest  to  that  part  of  the  field  where  he  has  the  advantage, 
— drawing  it  away  from  the  general  merits  of  the  question, 
where  perhaps  his  cause  could  not  be  sustained.  So  when 
we  call  the  attention  of  the  community  to  their  sins,  eager  as 
they  will  be  to  escape  the  subject,  they  will  scrutinize  our 
conduct  and  measures,  and  transfer  the  contest,  if  any  inge- 
nuity can  do  it,  to  a  dispute  about  something  which  we  do 
that  is  indiscreet,  or  imprudent,  or  unguarded.  Now  a  wise 
logician,  in  managing  his  argument,  aware  of  the  danger 
which  I  have  above  described,  will  state  his  facts  a  little  less 
strongly  than  he  is  prepared  to  prove  them,  and  in  pressing 
his  points,  will  stop  a  little  short  of  the  line  to  which  they 
might  legitimately  be  carried,  so  as  to  have  every  thing  com- 
pletely protected  and  secure,  and  to  expose  no  weak  points 
to  invite  attack,  and  produce  a  diversion.  These  tactics,  so 
unquestionably  sound  in  the  intellectual  conflicts,  are  equally 
BO  in  the  moral  one.  We  must  consider  beforehand  what 
will  be  the  charges  probably  made,  and  must  guard  especially 
against  affording  the  least  ground  for  making  them. 

8.  We  are  often  actuated  by  feelings  so  inconsistent  with 
the  principles  of  the  gospel,  in  attempting  to  act  upon  the 
moral  condition  of  the  community,  that  we  can  not  hope  for 
success.  And  yet  these  feelings,  unhallowed  as  they  are,  con- 
ceal themselves  from  our  view,  or  disguise  themselves  in  the 
garb  of  holy  emotions,  and  thus  elude  us.  Perhaps  those 
which  most  easily  gain  the  ascendency  in  our  hearts,  when 
we  think  we  are  only  honestly  interested  in  the  cause  of  God, 
are  censoriousness,  and  party  spirit.  The  one,  the  corrup- 
tion and  perversion  of  the  proper  feelings  toward  the  sin 
which  we  oppose,  and  the  other,  a  similar  corruption  and 
perversion  of  the  proper  feelings  toward  the  kingdom  of  Ch«st 
which  we  profess  to  promote.  In  other  words,  instead  of  a 
proper  hostility  to  sin,  which  is  always  coupled  with  feelings 


198  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Censoriousneaa.  Party  spirit  Anger  and  irritation. 

of  kindness  and  compassion  toward  sinners,  our  hearts  become 
the  prey  of  feelings  of  censoriousness  toward  the  sins,  and 
irritation  against  the  sinners.  And  so,  instead  of  that  calm, 
quiet  union  of  heart  with  all  who  love  the  Savior,  and  exem- 
plify his  principles,  united  with  a  simple,  honest  desire  that 
these  principles  should  spread,  we  insensibly  yield  ourselves 
to  the  dominion  of  party  spirit.  We  wish  that  our  side 
should  conquer  in  the  conflict ;  we  enjoy  the  mortification  of 
our  enemies,  when  they  receive  a  blow  ;  we  struggle  for  the 
pleasure  of  victory, — having  so  identified  ourselves  with  our 
party  that  we  consider  its  victories  as,  in  some  cases,  triumphs 
of  our  own. 

Censoriousness  and  party  spirit  : — they  are  the  bane  and 
the  destruction  of  the  Christian  cause.  And  yet  censorious- 
ness  is  not  precisely  the  word  to  convey  our  meaning  ;  for 
that  usually  imports  the  habit  of  speaking  with  uncharitable 
severity  of  the  faults  of  others,  whereas  the  sin  which  we 
wish  to  characterize  has  its  origin  in  the  heart,  and  censori- 
ousness is  one  of  its  fruits.  It  is  the  feeling  with  which  the 
unrenewed  heart  of  man  regards  those  sins  and  failings  of 
others  in  which  it  fancies  that  it  does  not  itself  participate. 
It  looks  upon  these  faults  and  failings  with  a  sort  of  malig- 
nant exultation,  and  upon  the  victim  of  them  with  a  feeling 
of  irritation  or  hostility  ;  and  when  he  suffers  the  bitter  fruits 
of  them,  it  enjoys  a  secret  satisfaction  which  is  of  the  nature 
of  revenge.  True  piety  on  the  other  hand  mourns  over  sin, 
and  mourns  equally,  with  the  tenderest  compassion,  over  the 
sad  prospects  of  the  sinner.  Censoriousness,  which  is  the  out- 
ward expression  of  the  one,  loves  to  talk  of  the  faults  which 
she  condemns  when  the  censured  ones  are  away,  and  no  end 
can  be  accomplished  by  it  but  the  indulgence  of  her  own 
malignant  gratification.  A  bitter  smile,  or  an  affected  look 
of  concern  is  upon  her  countenance,  and  "  I  despise,"  or  "  I 
can  not  bear,"  is  the  language  with  which  she  expresses  the 


PUBLIC    MOEALS.  199 


True  sorrow  for  sin.  Example  of  Jesus  Christ. 

vexation  and  the  impatience  of  her  heart.  But  when  sht- 
coraes  into  the  presence  of  the  object  of  her  displeasure,  he. 
countenance  is  clothed  with  heartless  smiles,  or  she  assume? 
an  air  of  dignified  and  cold  reserve ;  the  two  most  common 
rohes  of  disguise, — oh,  how  frail  and  thin, — with  which  the 
hatred  of  the  human  heart  is  covered. 

Piety,  on  the  other  hand,  sorrows  for  sin ; — the  is  not 
vexed  and  angry  with  it.  She  speaks  of  the  guilt  or  the 
errors  of  the  absent,  very  seldom, — and  then  with  no  irrita- 
tion or  secret  satisfaction.  And  when  she  is  in  the  presence 
of  one  whose  sins  or  folh'es  she  mourns,  the  real  spontaneous 
feelings  of  her  heart  give  an  expression  of  honest  kindness 
and  interest  to  her  countenance,  and  a  friendly  tone  to  her 
voice.  The  sin  which  she  laments,  she  does  not  look  upon 
as  an  offense  against  her,  that  arouses  hostility  and  hatred, 
but  as  a  source  of  evil  and  danger  which  awakens  compassion 
and  benevolent  regard.  Jesus  Christ  expressed  it  exactly, 
when  he  saw  before  him  the  crowded  city  of  Jerusalem, 
standing  out  upon  its  hills  in  beauty  and  grandeur, — and 
then  looking  forward  a  few  short  years,  beheld,  with  hi? 
prophetic  eye,  the  flames  bursting  forth  from  its  thousand 
dwellings,  and  roaring  around  the  walls  of  the  temple  of 
God.  He  expressed  exactly  the  feeling  which  I  have  been 
attempting  to  describe,  when  he  said,  with  the  most  heart- 
felt sorrow,  "  Oh,  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  how  gladly  would 
I  have  protected  thee,  but  thou  wouldst  not."  It  was  the 
city  which  had  killed  the  prophets,  and  stoned  the  messen- 
gers from  heaven ;  and  the  time  was  drawing  nigh,  when  he 
himself  was  to  be  led  forth  from  the  gates,  condemned  to 
death.  But  there  was  no  malignant  satisfaction  in  the 
Savior's  heart,  as  he  looked  forward  to  its  approaching 
overthrow.  The  just  retribution  of  her  awful  crimes  he 
mourned  over,  as  a  destruction  which  he  would  gladly  hav* 
stay-d. 


200  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Self-deception.  The  public  conscience. 

Now  the  danger  is,  that  the  Christian,  in  his  efforts  to 
promote  the  moral  welfare  of  the  community,  will  some- 
times, while  he  retains  the  tone,  and  the  language,  and  the 
appearance  belonging  to  the  latter  of  these  feelings,  gradu- 
ally allow  his  heart  to  come  under  the  unhallowed  dominion 
of  the  former.  Baffled,  perhaps,  in  some  of  our  well-intended 
plans,  by  the  ingenuity,  or  the  superior  power  of  wicked  men, 
we  find  it  hard  to  avoid  the  feelings  of  vexation  and  anger 
which  opposition  generally  awakens  in  the  human  soul ; 
and  the  enterprise  which  began  as  an  honest  effort  to  do 
good  to  fellow-sinners,  gradually  becomes  an  imbittered  con- 
test for  victory  over  foes.  We  do  not  perceive  the  change. 
We  are  blind  to  the  new  feelings  which  have  obtained  the- 
mastery  in  our  hearts.  We  do  not  much  alter  perhaps  the 
language  or  appearances  by  which  the  spirit  that  actuates 
us  is  exhibited ;  but  the  change,  though  superficially  not 
very  striking,  is  radical,  and  it  is  ruinous  in  regard  to  all 
hope  of  success.  We  lose  by  it,  the  only  two  means  by 
which  we  can  accomplish  any  thing  here, — the  moral  power 
of  honest,  simple-hearted  piety, — and  the  blessing  of  God. 
For  a  thousand  instances  have  shown  that  he  will  abandon 
even  his  own  cause,  the  moment  that  efforts  to  promote  it 
degenerate  into  a  contest  for  victory  between  man  and  man 

9.  Consider  what  is  the  real  avenue  by  which  Christian 
principle  is  to  gain  an  access  to  thp  great  community,  and 
an  influence  over  its  moral  condition.  It  is  the  public  con- 
science. There  is  a  public  conscience  as  well  as  a  public 
opinion ;  and  this  moral  sense  of  the  community  is  at  once 
the  great  protector  of  public  virtue,  and  the  great  ally  and 
supporter  of  those  who  labor  to  promote  it.  It  is  the  public 
conscience  which  we  must  arouse  from  her  slumbers, — it  is 
she  who  can  alone  open  to  us  the  brazen  doors  of  the  great 
castle  of  public  sin.  She  is  our  confederate,  our  only  efficient 
aid.  She  only  can  speak  so  as  to  command  attention, — she 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  201 


A  cruel  master.  Means  of  awakening  moral  sentiment. 

only,  when  Christian  principle  is  wanting,  can  restrain,  at 
all,  the  mighty  struggles  of  human  passion,  or  the  deliberate 
excesses  of  hahitual  sin. 

The  sympathy  of  man  with  man  is  shown  in  nothing  more 
strongly  than  in  the  moral  sentiments.  A  cruel  master,  we 
will  suppose,  punishes  his  apprentice  with  undue  severity, 
and  a  simple  statement  of  the  case  is  published  in  a  news- 
paper, accompanied  by  an  expression  of  just  but  calm  indig- 
nation at  the  wrong.  That  statement,  and  that  expression, 
though  enforced  perhaps  by  no  argument,  and  exhibiting  no 
new  moral  truths,  awaken  the  moral  sensibilities  of  the 
whole  community  around,  in  respect  to  the  guilt  of  cruelty 
to  a  helpless  boy,  and  though  the  whole  story  may  perhaps 
soon  be  forgotten,  the  influence  of  it  will  hold  back  the  hand 
of  many  a  cruel  master,  for  months  or  years. 

It  is  on  the  same  principle,  that  so  great  efforts  have  been 
produced,  within  a  few  years,  in  curtailing  the  use  of  alco- 
hol, in  its  various  form-,  as  an  article  of  common  consump- 
tion. It  is  not  so  much  the  power  of  the  argument,  it  is  not  the 
result  of  the  economical  calculations,  it  is  not  the  influence 
of  self-interest,  or  of  political  management,  or  of  popular 
declamation,  that  have  produced  the  effect : — it  is,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  simple  exhibition  of  facts,  and  the  expression 
of  certain  moral  principles  in  their  application  to  them, 
which  have  awakened  the  conscience  and  quickened  moral 
sensibility,  and  spread  by  sympathy,  from  heart  to  heart. 
This  has  been  the  great  source  of  the  power  whose  effects 
have  been  so  extensive ;  it  is  the  power  of  one  conscience, 
acting  strongly,  and  expressing  its  action,  to  awaken  another, 
until  the  moral  sensibilities  of  a  whole  community,  closely 
united  as  they  are  by  this  mysterious  sympathy,  vibrate  in 
unison,  and  pronounce  one  mighty  sentence  of  condemnation 
against  the  sin  which  has  awakened  its  voice. 

It  was  in  the  same  way,  that  the  great  victory  over  the 
i* 


202  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Excessive  zeal. 

slave-trade  was  obtained  in  Great  Britain  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago.  The  men  who  carried  on  that  movement, 
would  have  heen  weakness  and  helplessness  itself  without 
their  mighty  ally  They  knew  where  their  great  strength 
lay  ;  and  they  directed  their  efforts  to  awakening  the  moral 
sense  of  the  community,  to  the  end  that  it  might  pronounce 
a  sentence  of  condemnation  against  the  system ;  not  as  a 
suffrage  against  an  inexpedient  political  institution,  hut  as  a 
moral  condemnation  of  a  great  public  wrong. 

This  is  one  great  secret  of  all  moral  power.  The  decisions 
of  one  conscience,  freely  and  calmly  made, — and  calmly  and 
kindly,  though  decidedly  expressed,  will  quicken  the  decisions 
of  another ;  and  to  awaken  and  cultivate,  and  concentrate 
this  moral  sense  of  the  community,  is  the  great  work  by 
which  we  are  to  preserve  its  general  moral  health,  and 
undermine  great  public  sins.  In  accomplishing  this,  every 
caution  should  be  observed  to  avoid  all  which  can  interfere 
with  this  work.  If  by  the  excesses  of  our  zeal,  our  exag- 
gerated statements,  our  censorious  or  dictatorial  tone,  our 
violence,  our  lukewarmness,  our  illogical  reasoning,  our  over- 
bearing measures,  or  petty  management,  or  any  other  errors, 
we  give  just  ground  for  censure  against  ourselves,  we  defeat 
our  own  aim.  The  public  mind,  glad  of  an  excuse  for  turn- 
ing away  from  its  own  guilt,  makes  a  sally  against  our  errors ; 
and  the  conscience  which  we  were  endeavoring  to  arouse, 
falls  asleep  again,  while  the  ingenuity  and  the  satire,  or  the 
more  malignant  hostility  of  the  wicked,  is  occupied  in  dis- 
charging its  arrows  at  us.  We  do  not  mean  to  imply  by 
this,  that  such  hostility  can  always,  be  avoided,  but  only, 
that  so  far  as  we  excite  it  by  what  is  really  wrong  in  our 
spirit  or  measures,  we  close  the  door  in  the  most  effectual 
manner  against  the  only  influences  by  which  our  cause  can 
be  saved. 

10.  After  all,  however,  it  is  comparatively  little  which  the 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  203 


The  true  field  of  Christian  labor.  Political  evils  and  their  remedy. 

Christian  community  can  do  beyond  its  own  bounds ;  and 
our  great  work,  therefore,  is  to  expand  those  bounds  as  rap- 
idly as  possible,  and  to  purify  and  perfect  all  that  is  within 
them.  True  piety, — consisting  as  it  does  in  honest  obedience 
to  God,  and  heartfelt  benevolence  toward  man,  will  do  its 
work  in  securing  human  happiness  as  fast  and  far  as  it  can 
go  itself.  It  is  but  a  penumbra, — a  twilight, — of  virtue  and 
happiness,  which  can,  by  the  best  of  efforts,  be  carried  be- 
yond. We  toil  to  alter  human  institutions, — forms  of  gov- 
ernment,— modes  of  religious  organization, — or  systems  of 
social  economy,  where  we  find  them  bearing  heavily  upon 
the  welfare  or  the  happiness  of  men.  We  forget  that  it  is 
human  depravity  which  gives  to  human  institutions  all  their 
efficiency  in  evil,  and  while  the  depravity  remains,  it  mat- 
ters little  in  what  forms  it  tyrannizes  over  the  rights  and  hap- 
piness of  men.  A  despotic  monarch  can  do  no  more  mischief 
than  a  tyrannical  democracy ;  in  fact,  on  the  catalogue  of 
human  despots,  arranged  in  the  order  of  injustice  and  cruelty, 
a  Republican  Committee  of  Safety  would  come  first,  and 
Nero  would  have  to  follow.  Where  there  is  cold-blooded 
depravity  in  power  at  the  head,  and  corruption  in  the  mass 
below,  no  matter  for  the  forms.  So  in  the  church, — the 
worldly  spirit  which  in  England  would  make  a  bishop  an 
ambitious  politician,  or  a  country  pastor  an  idle  profligate, — 
would  in  America,  under  a  more  democratic  organization, 
show  itself  in  factious  struggles  between  contending  parties, 
or  in  the  wild  fanaticism  of  a  religious  demagogue.  All  this 
does  not  show  that  it  is  of  no  consequence  how  our  ecclesias- 
tical or  political  forms  are  arranged,  but  only  that  we  are  in 
danger  of  overrating  that  consequence,  and  that  our  great 
work  is  to  spread  the  influence  of  genuine  individual  piety 
everywhere.  This  alone  can  go  to  the  root  of  the  evil.  The 
thing  to  be  done,  is,  not  to  go  on  changing  institutions,  in  the 
vain  hope  of  finding  some  form  which  will  work  well,  while 


204  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Forms  of  government.  Spread  of  individual  virtue. 

depravity  administers  it, — but  to  root  out  depravity,  and  then 
almost  any  one  will  work  well.  We  should  accordingly 
learn  to  look  without  jealousy  and  dislike  upon  the  political 
institutions  of  other  countries,  even  if  they  do  not  correspond 
with  our  own  theoretical  notions.  The  theories  of  the  re- 
flecting portion  of  the  community,  have  but  little  to  do  with 
molding  their  institutions ;  they  are  regulated  by  circum- 
stances over  which  any  one  generation  has  but  little  control. 
Why,  for  example,  should  England  contend  with  America 
for  being  a  republic  ?  If  she  had  wished  to  be  a  monarchy, 
where,  I  ask,  could  she  have  found  a  king  ?  It  requires 
many  centuries  to  lay  any  firm  foundations  for  a  throne. 
And  why  should  America  contend  with  England  because  she 
is  a  monarchy  ?  Her  present  constitution  of  government  is 
an  undesigned  result  of  the  growth  of  centuries,  that  no  com- 
bination of  human  powers,  which  it  is  possible  to  effect  in  a 
single  generation,  can  safely  change. 

It  is  then  the  spread  of  individual  virtue,  and  the  cultiva 
tion  of  the  moral  sense  of  the  community,  which  is  to  miti- 
gate the  evils  that  now  oppress  mankind.  This  will  alleviate 
individual  sufferings,  and  soften  the  asperities  of  intercourse 
between  man  and  man,  and  render  more  mild  and  gentle, 
the  pressure  of  government  and  the  necessary  restraints  of 
law.  Public  virtue  must  be  the  great  means  of  extending 
free  institutions,  by  relaxing  everywhere  the  grasp  of  power ; 
for  political  power  must  be  based  on  public  opinion.  As  we 
have  shown  before,  a  certain  degree  of  regard  for  life,  and 
property,  and  of  public  order,  is  necessary  to  the  very  exist- 
ence of  society, — and  the  degree  of  power  on  the  part  of  the 
sovereign,  necessary  to  secure  this,  public  opinion  will  always 
tolerate  and  support.  Where  there  is,  in  any  community,  a 
vast  amount  of  degradation  and  vice,  there  will  be  tolerated 
a  sufficient  degree  of  military  power  and  of  governmental 
restriction,  to  keep  it  under  control.  Where,  on  the  other 


PUBLIC    MORALS. 


205 


France  and  New  England. 


hand,  the  community  is  virtuous  and  peaceful,  government, 
whatever  may  be  its  form,  must,  insensibly,  and  by  the  in- 
fluence of  moral  causes  more  powerful  than  bayonets  or  can- 
non, gradually  relax  its  hold.  We  see  the  exemplification 
of  this  everywhere  In  France,  for  example,  where  vita) 


MILITARY   GOVERNMENT. 


piety  scarcely  lingers, — what  a  machinery  of  power  has  been 
necessary  to  preserve  the  public  order.  What  passports, — 
what  a  police, — what  a  gendarmerie  !  How  completely  is 
thfc  whole  community,  in  all  its  ramifications,  under  the 
espionage  and  the  grasp  of  governmental  power ;  by  a  sys- 
tem, which  public  opinion  not  only  tolerates,  but  sustains, 
knowing  that  without  it  public  tranquillity  could  perhaps 
not  be  preserved  a  day.  And  yet  in  New  England  a  man 
may  spend  his  days  and  scarcely  perceive  any  signs  of  a 
government, — and  certainly  not  feel  its  pressure  personally, 


206  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD 

The  true  support  of  despotism.  The  Christian  citizen. 

from  his  cradle  to  his  grave.  It  is  the  public  conviction  of 
its  necessity,  which  sustains  the  system  in  the  one  case,  and 
it  is  its  manifest  uselessness  which  dispenses  with  it  in  the 
other.  It  is  thus,  that  public  vice  is  always  the  origin  and 
the  supporter  of  despotism.  It  is  the  very  foundation  of  its 
throne.  Banditti  upon  the  highways  are  invaluable  auxilia- 
ries to  its  cause,  and  every  insurrection  in  the  provinces,  or 
riot  in  the  city,  adds  to  the  number  of  its  bayonets,  and  sup- 
plies ammunition  for  its  cannon.  And  when  despotism  is 
thus  established,  revolution  is  no  remedy.  It  may  shift  the 
power  to  oppress  from  one  hand  to  another,  but  there  can  be 
no  effectual  or  permanent  mitigation  of  it  but  virtue  and  self- 
control  on  the  part  of  the  governed. 

We  ought  also  to  remark,  before  concluding  the  discussion 
of  this  chapter,  that  it  relates  to  measures  adopted  by  Chris- 
tians, as  such, — that  is,  as  members  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ 
in  a  world  in  heart  opposed  to  him.  The  duties  of  the  Chris- 
tian as  a  citizen  we  do  not  wish  here  to  discuss.  He  is  a  citizen 
of  the  state  as  well  as  others,  and  all  the  responsibilities  and 
duties  of  citizenship  belong  to  him  fully.  While  he  should 
most  sedulously  guard  against  an  assuming  or  a  dictatorial 
spirit,  and  avoid  all  manoeuvering  and  intrigue,  and  keep  his 
heart  free  from  party  spirit,  and  lust  of  office  and  power, — 
he  should  still  be  vigilant,  and  faithful,  and  punctual,  in  dis- 
charging all  the  duties  which  the  constitution  of  his  country 
imposes  upon  him.  And  whatever  share  of  influence  he  may 
properly  exert  directly,  in  respect  to  the  political  administra- 
tion of  his  government,  that  he  is  bound  to  exert,  in  favor  of 
such  men  and  such  measures  as  will  promote  the  highest  and 
most  permanent  public  good.  If  all  are  faithful  in  the  dis- 
charge of  these  obligations,  then  just  so  far  as  personal  piety 
extends,  so  far  will  the  social  and  political  condition  of  man 
be  improved,  and  this  is  the  only  sure  and  safe  mode  of  pro- 
gress. This  subject,  however,  we  do  not  now  propose  to  go 


PUBLIC    MORALS.  207 


Progress  of  Christianity. 


into,  but  only  to  consider  the  extent  in  which  the  Christian 
community,  as  such,  may  hope  to  exert  a  good  influence  upon 
the  mass  of  mind  around  it. 

The  work  of  the  Christian,  then,  in  this  world,  is  mainly 
with  individuals, — his  object  is  to  promote  the  spread  of  per- 
sonal, individual  piety, — the  highest  in  its  standard,  and  the 
most  extensive  in  its  range.  Then  let  this  piety  thoroughly 
inter-penetrate  the  whole  mass  of  society,  and  mingle  every- 
where with  mind,  so  as  to  bring  the  insensible,  unobtrusive, 
but  most  powerful  influence  of  its  presence,  to  act  upon  the 
whole  mass  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  It  must  not  stand 
aloof.  It  must  be  separate  from  the  world  in  character, 
not  in  condition,  it  must  sustain  the  most  friendly  business 
and  social  relations  with  all  mankind, — and  by  a  sort  of  inter- 
fusion with  the  mass,  carry  its  influence  everywhere.  While, 
however,  piety  goes  thus,  like  the  Savior,  wherever  there  is 
sin,  she  must,  like  him,  keep  herself  unspotted  from  its  con- 
tamination,— firm  and  unyielding  in  her  lofty  principles,  and 
pure  in  her  own  heavenly  spirit.  While  she  is  kind,  she 
must  be  decided  ; — conciliatory  and  unobtrusive,  while  she  is 
consistent  and  firm.  Clothed  in  her  own  alluring  garb,  she 
must  exhibit  the  moral  beauty  of  obedience  to  God  and 
benevolence  toward  man,  and  thus,  while  she  wins  multi- 
tudes to  sincere  repentance  and  eternal  life,  she  will  gently, 
but  powerfully,  restrain  the  guilt  and  assuage  the  sorrows  of 
the  vast  multitudes  which  yet  continue  in  their  sins. 


208  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

The  plan  of  the  Savior.  He  founded  a  church. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE     CHURCH    AND     CHRISTIAN    UNION. 


NOTWITHSTANDING  the  vast  importance  which  may  justly 
be  attached  to  private,  individual  effort,  in  the  work  of  Doing 
Good,  we  must  not  pass  slightly  over  another  great  and 
important  topic, — union  and  co-operation.  Jesus  Christ  did 
not  merely  make  arrangements  for  the  spread  of  personal 
piety  from  heart  to  heart, — lie  founded  a  church.  He  took 
measures  for  concentrating  the  moral  power  which  he  intro- 
duced, and  for  linking  together  his  followers  by  ties  which 
formed  at  once  their  strength  and  their  protection.  But  the 
human  heart,  always  ready  to  find  some  door  of  escape 
where  it  may  go  astray,  and  especially  always  prone  to  slip 
away  from  what  is  spiritual  to  what  is  external,  has  per- 
verted our  Savior's  original  design,  until  at  length,  after  the 
lapse  of  eighteen  centuries,  the  arrangement  which  was  in- 
tended by  him,  to  establish  forever  union  and  harmony,  has 
resulted  in  the  very  extreme  of  separation  and  division. 

It  is  not,  however,  the  number  of  distinct  ecclesiastical 
organizations  now  existing,  that  constitutes  the  main  evil, — 
it  is  the  spirit  of  dissension  and  jealousy,  not  to  say  hostility, 
which  separates  them  from  one  another.  For  example,  a 
comparatively  small  degree  of  inconvenience  or  injury  would 
result,  perhaps,  from  the  arrangement  by  which  the  church 
of  Scotland  stands  a  different  organization  from  the  church 


THE   CHURCH   AND   CHRISTIAN   UNION.  209 

Various  branches.  Dissensions  among  them. 

of  England, — each  having  its  own  officers,  its  own  rules  and 
its  own  usages,  and  thus  each  being  independent  of  the  other, 
— provided  the  two  would  occupy  their  respective  parts  of 
the  vineyard,  as  distinct,  hut  friendly  divisions  of  the  same 
great  family, — each  enjoying  the  confidence  and  affection  of 
the  other.  In  the  same  manner,  there  might  be  little  incon- 
venience or  injury  from  having  a  Methodist  and  a  Congre- 
gational church  in  the  same  city,  in  which  case  the  respec- 
tive fields  of  the  two  organizations  would  be  marked  off,  not 
indeed  by  territorial  limits,  but  by  the  different  tastes,  or 
habits,  or  pursuits  of  different  classes  of  the  community.  We 
do  not  say  that  it  would  be  better  to  have  two  such  organi- 
zations of  the  Savior's  followers,  rather  than  one, — but  only 
that  it  would  not  be  much  worse,  were  it  not  for  a  spirit  of 
dissension  and  hostility  between  them.  If  the  portions  into 
which  the  church  is  divided  were  friendly  families,  nearly 
all  the  evils  of  the  division  would  disappear,  and  there 
would  be  some  great  advantages  to  balance  those  which 
should  remain.  But  instead  of  being  friendly  families,  they 
are,  in  fact,  too  often  hostile  tribes,  expending  quite  as  much 
of  their  ammunition  upon  one  another,  as  upon  the  common 
enemy ;  so  that  the  evil  consists,  not  so  much  in  the  lines  of 
demarkation  by  which  the  great  body  of  believers  are  sepa- 
rated, as  in  the  brazen  walls  of  jealousy,  mistrust,  and  excom- 
munication, which  are  erected  on  these  lines.  It  is  these 
last  which  make  the  mischief. 

The  cause  of  our  difficulty  seems  to  be  the  tendency  of 
mankind  to  run  into  an  inordinate  attachment  to  forms. 
Forms  are  something  distinct  and  tangible,  and  associations 
of  interest  and  attachment  cling  to  them  easily  and  strongly. 
Then  again,  the  religious  usages  to  which  we  are  ourselves 
accustomed  are  the  ones  which  are  in  our  minds  when  we 
read  the  Scriptures,  and  we  associate  them  with  the  direc- 
tions and  descriptions  given  there,  so  strongly,  as  at  length 


210 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Religious  party  spirit 


insensibly  to  imbibe  the  belief,  that  these  very  usages  were 
the  ones  referred  to  and  practiced  in  those  days ;  each  reader 
thus  making  his  own  accidental  experience  a  part  of  his 

interpretation.  Thus 
the  officer  or  the  ordi- 
nance which  we  read 
of,  is  always  the  officer 
or  the  ordinance  which 
we  are  accustomed  to ; 
just  as  every  farmer's 
child  when  reading  the 
story  of  the  babe  in  the 
manger,  al  wayspictures 
to  himself  a  scene  from 
his  own  father's  barn. 
Then,  besides,  there  is 
party  spirit,  a  form 
of  human  depravity, 
not  slow  to  show  itself 
in  the  most  sacred  re- 
lations of  the  soul.  We  love  to  have  our  party  prosper,  and 
so  we  are  ardent  and  zealous  for  the  interests  of  our  own 
pale ;  for  thus,  by  the  self-delusion  which  is  the  inveterate 
and  perpetual  characteristic  of  sin,  we  can  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  thinking  that  our  ardor  is  for  the  cause  of  God,  while 
in  fact  we  are  only  glorifying  ourselves.  And  of  all  the  in- 
accessible and  impregnable  fortresses  of  sin,  this  is  certainly 
the  worst.  Human  selfishness  and  pride  are  firm  and  im- 
movable enough,  when  open  and  undisguised  ; — and  real, 
devoted  love  to  God,  too,  will  sometimes  stand  its  ground 
well ;  — but  when  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  party  zeal  clothe 
themselves  with  the  garb  of  pretended  piety,  and  do  it  so 
adroitly  as  to  deceive  their  very  victim,  you  have  head- 
strong, unmanageable  and  indomitable  obstinacy  personified. 


CHILDISH  CONCEPTIONS. 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  211 

Two  ways  to  make  peace. 

The  pride  and  selfishness  of  party  spirit  which  constitute 
the  real  spring,  are  far  within,  protected  by  the  superficial 
covering  from  all  attack  and  all  exposure.  This  kind  of 
character  is  found  in  every  denomination  of  Christians,  and 
it  is  the  spirit  which  this  diffuses  and  creates,  that  gives  all 
its  acrimony  to  the  division  of  the  church  ;  which  division 
might  otherwise  be  considered  as  an  amicable  arrangement, 
intended  to  accommodate  Christianity  in  its  external  forms 
to  the  changing  events  and  tastes  and  habits  of  different  ages 
and  climes. 

There  are  two  modes  by  which  the  Christian  church  may 
attempt  to  promote  a  state  of  greater  harmony.  One  is,  for 
each  denomination  to  struggle  to  bring  all  the  others  upon 
its  own  ground, — which  plan  has  been  for  some  time  in  the 
course  of  trial,  and  the  result  of  the  experiment  thus  far,  is, 
that  the  opposing  forces  of  the  contending  parties  neutralize 
each  other,  and  the  only  result  which  remains  is  a  gradual 
thickening  of  the  walls,  and  raising  of  the  battlements,  and 
strengthening  of  the  bulwarks  by  which  they  are  separated. 
I  need  not  say  that  I  have  no  intention,  in  this  chapter,  of 
engaging  in  this  work. 

The  other  plan  is,  while  we  leave  each  of  the  great  divi- 
sions of  the  Christian  family  in  the  peaceful  occupancy  of  its 
own  ground,  to  endeavor  to  diminish,  and  ultimately  to  de- 
stroy, the  walls  of  jealousy  and  dislike  which  separate  them. 
The  way  to  do  this  is  for  us  to  learn  to  attach  less  importance 
to  these  differences.  This  we  shall  easily  do,  if  we  look  into 
the  Bible  with  an  honest  desire  to  understand  the  real  place 
which  forms  and  modes  of  organization  occupy  there.  This 
question  I  now  propose  to  examine. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  admirable  provisions  made  to  secure 
the  spread  of  religion  in  such  a  world  as  this,  that  it  was  not 
left  as  a  mere  general  principle  to  work  its  way  itself  among 
mankind  Jesus  Christ  not  only  taught  the  principles  of 


212  THE   WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Union  of  Christians  necessary.  Subordinate  place  of  forms. 

piety, — but  he  took  measures  for  the  founding  of  a  church. 
He  provided  for  the  embodying  of  his  followers  in  united 
bands,  and  he  showed  by  this  arrangement  his  knowledge  of 
a  principle  which  the  philosophers  of  those  days  were  not 
shrewd  enough  to  discover.  And,  as  a  distinguished  writer 
has  observed,  if  he  had  contented  himself  with  merely  teach- 
ing Christianity,  without  founding  a  church,  the  results  of 
his  labors  could  not  have  been  expected,  on  human  probabil- 
ities, to  have  survived  his  death  by  a  single  century.  Yes  ; 
the  union,  the  regular  organization  of  the  disciples  of  Christ, 
is  an  essential  part  of  the  plan  of  Christianity.  To  make 
each  individual  Christian  isolated  and  solitary  in  such  a  world 
as  this,  would  be  almost  as  ruinous  as  the  disbanding  of  an 
army  upon  the  field  of  battle.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the  neces- 
sity of  an  organization  itself,  but  the  precise  form  and  method 
in  which  the  organization  is  effected,  that  we  are  prone  to 
over-estimate.  While  the  latter,  the  mode  and  form  of  or- 
ganization, has  been  continually  fluctuating  from  the  days  of 
Abraham  to  the  present  hour,  the  former,  the  necessity  of  or- 
ganized union  itself,  has  remained  during  all  these  centuries 
unchanged,  and  must  remain  fixed  and  immovable  as  long  as 
human  nature  continues  as  it  is. 

He,  however,  who  honestly  wishes  to  know  the  will  of  God 
in  respect  to  this  subject,  will  find,  in  looking  carefully  into 
it,  a  great  many  very  striking  evidences  that  the  particular 
modes  and  forms  by  which  the  organization  of  good  men  in 
this  world  is  effected,  assume,  in  the  divine  counsels,  a  very 
subordinate  and  secondary  place.  And  let  me  remind  the 
reader,  before  I  proceed  to  mention  some  of  these  evidences, 
that  we  are  all  exposed  to  a  very  strong  bias  while  looking  at 
them.  We  have  ourselves  been  educated  in  one  Christian 
communion, — accustomed  for  many  years  to  one  system,  and 
the  usages  which  have  thus  become  so  familiar  to  us,  have 
entwined  themselves  around  our  hearts,  and  linked  with 


THE   CHURCH   AND   CHRISTIAN    UNION.  213 


Attachment  to  them. 


themselves  all  our  most  sacred  associations.  All  this  is  well. 
It  is  perfectly  right  that  we  should  cling  with  feelings  of  in- 
terest and  attachment  to  what  we  have  loved  and  venerated 
so  long.  But  then  it  is  hard  for  us  to  distinguish  between, 
what  is  thus  hallowed  to  us,  as  individuals,  from  the  circum- 
stances of  our  past  history,  and  what  is  absolutely  enjoined 
by  the  word  of  God,  and  which  we  are  accordingly  to  insist 
upon  from  others.  But  we  ought  to  distinguish  between  them. 
While  we  cling,  with  as  strong  an  attachment  as  we  please, 
to  the  institutions  whose  happy  influence  we  have  enjoyed 
for  so  many  years  that  our  religious  sentiments  and  feelings 
are  inextricably  interwoven  with  them, — we  should  still  be 
willing  to  open  our  eyes  to  the  distinction  between  what  we 
have  thus  ourselves  justly  learned  to  love,  and  what  God  has 
absolutely  enjoined  upon  all.  While,  then,  I  bring  forward 
the  indications  that  God  considers  the  particular  mode  by 
which  his  friends  are  organized,  as  of  secondary  and  subordi- 
nate importance,  give  them,  reader,  a  candid  hearing :  and 
remember  that  they  are  not  intended  to  dimmish  your  attach- 
ment to  the  institutions  which  you  love,  but  only  to  increase 
your  indulgence  for  those  who,  by  precisely  the  same  causes, 
are  led  to  love  institutions  somewhat  different  from  yours. 

In  the  examination  of  this  subject,  then,  we  shall  endeavor 
to  throw  some  light  upon  the  degree  of  importance  which 
God  attaches  to  the  particular  forms  of  government  and  dis- 
cipline under  which  his  people  are  united,  by  the  establish- 
ment of  the  following  propositions. 

PROPOSITIONS. 

1.  Forms  of  ecclesiastical  organization,  while  they  were 
under  the  special  direction  of  God,  in  ancient  days  were  not 
fixed  and  permanent,  but  were  changed  continually,  accord- 
ing to  the  exigencies  of  the  times.  These  changes  continued 
down  to  the  close  of  the  Scripture  history. 


214  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  eight  propositions.  Changes. 

2.  The  forms  which  were  in  use  at  th«  close  of  the  Scrip 
ture  history,  were  only  usages  incidentally  introduced,  from 
time  to  time,  and  not  adopted  as   a  system  deliberately  ar 
ranged  and  established  once  for  all. 

3.  The  description  of  these  usages  is  very  indistinct  and 
incomplete. 

4.  The  apostles  were  not  strict  and  uniform  in  the  observ- 
ance of  them. 

5.  Their  present  authority  rests  on  the  mere  practice  of 
good  men,  in  early  times,  which  is  nowhere  in  the  Scriptures 
made  binding. 

6.  The  most  complete   system  which  can  be  drawn  from 
these  records  of  early  practice,  is  not  at  all  sufficient  for  the 
present  wants  of  the  church. 

7.  The  union  of  Christians,  under  any  one  consolidated 
ecclesiastical  government,  must  be  highly  dangerous,  if  not 
fatal  to  the  cause  of  true  piety. 

8.  God  sanctions,  by  the  influences  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  the 
existence   and  the  operations  of  all  those  denominations  of 
Christians,  whatever  may  be  their  forms,  whose  faith  and 
practice  coi^jespond  with  his  Word. 

These  propositions  we  now  proceed  to  consider. 

I.  Forms  of  ecclesiastical  organization,  while  they  con- 
tinued under  the  special  direction  of  God  in  ancient  days, 
were  not  fixed  and  permanent,  but  were  continually  changed, 
to  meet  the  emergencies  of  the  times. 

God  has  always  had  a  body  of  true  and -faithful  friends  in 
the  world,  and  he  might  easily  have  adopted  a  plan  for 
uniting  them,  from  the  beginning,  in  a  church,  with  pre- 
scribed and  permanent  forms  of  government  and  worship.  In 
fact,  if  he  had  entertained  the  views  on  this  subject,  which 
thft  Christian  church  is  prone  to  entertain  at  the  present  day, 


THE    CHURCH    AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  215 

Times  of  Abraham,  Moses,  and  David. 

he  would  have  done  so.  Abraham  and  Melchisedec  would 
have  been  joined  into  a  regular  church,  with  rules  for  gov- 
ernment and  worship  which  should  have  been  exactly  pre- 
scribed and  made  the  model  for  all  succeeding  generations. 
But  instead  of  such  a  plan  God  has  made  the  precise  mode 
of  union  as  changeable  as  the  varying  circumstances  of  every 
age.  In  Abraham's  time,  the  faithful  constituted  simply  a 
family,  governed  by  patriarchal  rules,  and  offering  a  very 
simple  worship.  In  the  time  of  Moses,  circumstances  change, 
and  the  whole  ecclesiastical  arrangements  of  his  people 
change  with  them.  We  have  the  church  and  the  state  not 
merely  united,  but  absolutely  identified, — governed  by  very 
peculiar  rules  and  usages,  which  were  evidently  not  only 
temporary,  but  from  their  very  nature,  limited  and  local.  In 
the  days  of  Joshua,  the  church,  which  was  before  a  moving 
state,  takes  the  new  character  of  an  invading  army  ;  and 
military  rules,  military  customs,  and  military  movements, 
very  seriously  affect  and  modify  all  the  arrangements  of  the 
government  and  worship  of  the  church  of  God.  The  whole 
Levitical  system,  planned  and  minutely  described  by  Jehovah 
himself,  was  local  and  temporary, — confined  necessarily  to 
one  small  nation,  occupying  a  spot  scarcely  discernible  on  the 
map  of  the  world,  and  limited  by  the  very  termination  which 
God  himself  intended  for  it,  to  a  few  hundred  years. 

If  the  reader  should  say  that  there  were  peculiar  reasons 
arising  out  of  the  circumstances  of  the  occasion,  why  a  local 
and  a  temporary  ecclesiastical  arrangement  should  be  made 
for  the  Jews,  he  would  be  doubtless  correct,  and  would  come 
to  what  is,  unquestionably,  the  true  principle,  namely,  that 
in  respect  to  ecclesiastical  forms,  it  always  has  been  God's 
design  to  regard  the  circumstances  of  the  case  in  the  regula- 
tion of  them.  With  the  view,  which  we  are  prone  to  enter- 
tain, we  should  have  placed  church  government  and  the 
forms  of  worship  on  a  fixed  and  permanent  basis  at  the  very 


216  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Time  of  \Jie  Savior.  His  ecclesiastical  polity. 

beginning, — making  the  system  go  on  unchanged  from  gene- 
ration to  generation, — pursuing  its  steady  and  unalterable 
way  over  monarchies  and  republics,  in  civilized  and  savage 
life,  still  the  same  in  every  age,  and  among  all  nations,  lan- 
guages, and  realms.  But  God  in  the  most  systematic,  and 
formal,  and  minutely  detailed  ecclesiastical  arrangement 
which  he  ever  made,  only  intended  it  for  one  single  province, 
and  for  a  few  centuries  ;  and  in  effect,  he  swept  it  all  away 
himself  by  a  foreign  invasion,  long  before  the  time  arrived 
which  was  appointed  for  its  close. 

We  will  not  stop  to  notice  how  different  the  state  of  the 
church  of  God  must  have  been  in  the  time  of  the  captivity, 
— nor  the  changes  which  took  place  on  the  return,  when 
the  introduction  'of  the  synagogue  modified  the  whole  plan 
of  public  worship.  We  pass  on  to  the  Savior's  day,  when 
the  constitution  of  the  church  was  totally  different  from 
what  it  ever  was  before,  or  has  been  since.  It  may  be  given 
thus. 

1.  Twelve  apostles. 

2.  Seventy  itinerant  ministers,  traveling  two  and  two. 

3.  One  treasurer. 

4.  No  local  churches. 

5.  Meetings  in  the  open  air. 

6.  Ministry  supported  by  the  voluntary  contributions  and 
hospitality  of  its  friends. 

7.  Funds  of  the  ministry  in  common. 

8.  No  lay  organization  whatever. 

And  even  these  arrangements  seem  not  to  have  been  made 
as  the  result  of  any  settled  plan ;  measures  were  adopted  to 
suit  emergencies,  and  the  above  was  the  result.  If  Jesus 
Christ  had  entertained  the  views  which  are  very  common 
now  in  every  denomination  of  Christians,  one  of  the  first 
things  which  would  have  attracted  his  attention,  would  have 
been  the  work  of  settling  the  constitution  of  the  Christian 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  21 7 


Ecclesiastical  polity  of  the  apostles. 


church.  The  forms  of  government,  discipline,  and  worship, 
would  have  been,  fixed  and  minutely  described,  for  the  guid- 
ance of  his  followers  in  all  future  time.  But  he  could  not 
have  entertained  such  views ;  for  he  took  a  totally  different 
course.  He  adopted,  for  the  time  being,  such  measures  as 
suited  his  own  purposes, — which  were  as  peculiar  as  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed  ;  and  when  he  left  the 
world,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  he  acted  were 
changed,  the  whole  ecclesiastical  polity  which  was  founded 
on  them,  was  changed  too. 

For  after  the  lapse  of  a  very  few  years  from  the  death  of 
Christ,  the  reader  of  the  New  Testament  finds  himself  sur- 
rounded by  quite  a  different  system  of  religious  institutions. 
We  have  then, 

1.  A  ministry,  sometimes  itinerant  and  sometimes  station- 
ary. 

2.  Seven  deacons. 

3.  Local  churches. 

4.  Somewhat  regular  ordination. 

5.  Ecclesiastical  councils. 

6.  An  enumeration  of  four  or  five  different  officers,  not 
including  deacons,  viz.   apostles,  prophets,  evangelists,  pas- 
tors, and  teachers.* 

7.  In  some  sense,  and  to  some  extent,  not  however  very 
distinctly  defined,  a  community  of  goods. 

We  will  not  follow  the  history  of  God's  people  any  farther, 
to  show  that  the  forms  of  their  organization  have  been  con- 
tinually changing  since  then,  for  the  reader  might  insist  that 
all  subsequent  changes  have  been  unauthorized  and  wrong. 
But,  after  looking  at  the  facts  which  we  have  just  stated,  no 
one  can  deny  that  so  long  as  God  himself  exercised  a  direct 

*  Ephesians  iv.  11.  And  he  (i.  e.  Christ)  gave  some  npostles; 
and  some  prophets;  and  some  evangelists;  and  some  pastors  and 
teachers,  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints,  ic. 

K 


218  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Apostolic  arrangements  provisional. 

control  over  the  external  arrangements  make  by  his  people, 
he  changed  them  continually,  according  to  the  exigencies  of 
the  times.  And  this  seems  to  show  that  while  he  may  at- 
tach great  importance  to  organized  combination  itself,  he 
must  regard  the  particular  mode  by  which  it  is  to  be  ef- 
fected, as  of  secondary  and  subordinate  account. 
We  come  now  to  the  second  proposition. 

II.  The  forms  which  are  introduced  at  the  close  of  the 
scripture  history,  grew  out  of  usages  incidentally  introduced, 
from  time  to  time.  They  were  not  adopted  as  a  system  de- 
liberately arranged  and  established  once  for  all. 

It  is  remarkable  how  entirely  provisional,  as  statesmen 
term  it,  were  all  the  ecclesiastical  arrangements  made  by 
the  apostles.  That  is,  the  most  important  parts  of  their  sys- 
tem were  introduced  in  succession, — on  emergencies, — to  an- 
swer particular  and  often  temporary  purposes,  instead  of 
having  been  framed  as  a  whole,  with  a  general  view  to  the 
permanent  and  universal  wants  of  the  church.  The  disciples 
did  not  come  together  after  the  ascension,  as  we,  in  modern 
times,  should  very  probably  have  done,  to  form  a  constitution 
for  the  church,  wisely  framed  and  adjusted,  to  cover  the 
whole  ground.  No.  They  went  to  their  work  at  once,  giv- 
ing their  whole  souls  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel ;  and,  as 
from  time  to  time  emergencies  arose,  requiring  new  arrange- 
ments, they  met  the  cases  as  they  occurred.  For  example, 
they  did  not  make  a  general  rule,  that  all  important  appoint- 
ments should  be  made  by  election,  and  provide  by  rule,  for 
the  contingency  of  two  prominent  candidates,  in  such  elec- 
tions. But  when  they  came  together,  to  fill  Judas's  place, 
they  concluded,  in  that  case,  to  elect,  and  when  they  found 
that  there  were  two  principal  candidates,  they  concluded,  in 
that  case,  to  decide  by  lot.  Did  they  intend  this  to  be  a 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  219 

Election.  Ordinations.  The  grand  council. 

precedent,  to  govern  the  mode  of  Christian  elections  in  all 
coming  time  ? 

After  a  while,  an  emergency  occurred,  requiring  aid  for  the 
apostles  in  a  certain  business,  altogether  peculiar  to  that  age 
and  country,  and  they  determined  to  appoint  seven  deacons, 
with  special  reference  to  that  emergency.  This  was  the 
origin  of  the  appointment  of  deacons. 

In  the  same  manner,  the  rules  of  ordination  were  not 
adopted  as  general  rules  ;  but  when  the  churches  wished  to 
send  Paul  and  Barnabas  on  a  foreign  mission,  they  ordained 
them  to  that  work  ;*  and  when  Paul  left  Titus  in  Crete,  he 
gave  him,  Titus,  directions  about  ordaining  elders  in  that 
particular  island,  Crete.  On  one  occasion,  a  question  arose 
which  it  seemed  difficult  to  settle,  and  a  general  consultation 
was  agreed  upon.  This  formed  the  first  council.  It  was 
called,  not  as  the  first  regular  meeting  of  a  body  organized  as 
a  model  for  all  coming  times,  but  as  a  special  assembly,  re- 
sorted to  for  a  temporary  and  single  emergency.  It  will  be 
found  by  reading  the  book  of  the  Acts,  that  all  the  ecclesias- 
tical arrangements  of  the  apostles  were  made  in  this  way  ; 
they  were  not  adopted  at  once,  as  a  whole ;  they  were  not 
the  results  of  a  deliberate  plan  to  frame  a  system  for  them- 
selves and  posterity ;  they  were  provisional,  temporary  ar- 
rangements, resorted  to  successively,  at  distant  intervals  of 
time,  to  aid  in  existing  emergencies,  and  to  remove  difficul- 
ties as  they  occurred.  This  does  not,  indeed,  prove  that  we 
have  nothing  in  these  days  to  do  with  the  example  of  the 
early  Christians,  but  it  does  prove,  most  certainly,  that  they 
entertained  views  very  different  from  those  which  often  pre- 
vail in  this  age  of  the  world,  in  respect  to  the  nature  and 
province  of  ecclesiastical  forms. 

*  We  shall  hereafter  see  that  they  had  both  been  regular  and  ac- 
knowledged ministers  some  time  before  this  ordination. 


220  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Description  of  usages.  Levitical  law.  Fourth  commandment. 

III.  The  description  of  these  usages  is  very  indistinct  and 
incomplete. 

The  knowledge  which  we  gain  of  them  is  not  given 
in  any  formal  and  methodical  description,  but  in  incidental 
allusions,  scattered  through  the  Acts  and  the  Epistles. 
This  is  indicative  of  the  degree  of  importance  attached  to 
them  hy  the  sacred  writers.  Contrast  it  with  the  methodical 
and  systematic  manner,  in  which  the  various  subjects  con- 
nected with  religious  truth,  are  exhibited  in  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans,  or  that  in  which  practical  duty  in  all  the  rela- 
tions of  life,  is  drawn  out  and  enforced  in  other  epistles ; 
and  this,  too,  when  it  must  be  admitted  by  common  consent, 
that  forms  of  government,  more  than  any  thing  else,  if  in- 
tended to  be  binding,  must  be  precise,  and  minute,  and 
exact  in  all  their  specifications.  God  has  himself  given  us 
one  example  of  this,  in  the  statutes  relating  to  ecclesiastical 
government  and  modes  of  worship  among  the  Jews.  There 
is  a  model.  The  Holy  Spirit,  in  dictating  the  books  of 
Leviticus  and  Deuteronomy,  recognized  the  necessity  of  be- 
ing minute,  and  particular,  and  specific  in  the  extreme,  in  a 
record  of  forms  which  were  intended  to  be  binding  even  upon 
one  nation,  and  for  a  limited  time.  But  when  at  length  these 
forms  came  to  be  abrogated,  and  a  spiritual  religion  came  to 
take  their  place,  we  have  instead  of  the  methodical  and  well  • 
digested  systems  clearly  described, — only  incidental  allusions 
to  the  practice  of  individuals  in  the  peculiar  emergencies  in 
which  they  were  placed. 

There  is  the  institution  of  the  Sabbath  too,  which,  in 
respect  to  the  distinctness  with  which  its  enactment  and 
observance  is  announced,  shows  us  how  specific  and  direct 
God's  commands  are,  when  they  enjoin  external  observances 
on  which  he  really  lays  a  stress.  Announced  in  general 
terms  as  universally  binding,  at  the  creation,  and  then, — 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  221 

Not  strictly  observed.  Ordination. 

as  soon  as  the  state  of  society  made  written  records  of  value, 
— placed  upon  stone,  in  language  definite  and  exact,  almost 
to  legal  technicality,  it  stands  a  model  of  legislative  precision. 
Read  the  fourth  commandment,  and  then  collect  together  and 
read,  all  that  is  said  of  the  mode  of  Christian  ordination,  or 
the  orders  of  the  ministry,  and  note  the  contrast. 

We  do  not  here  say  how  far  this  ought  to  influence  us, 
but,  certainly  no  candid  man  can  deny  that  it  is  worthy  of 
consideration,  and  should  seriously  affect,  to  some  degree,  at 
least,  our  views  of  the  proper  place  of  forms  in  the  Christian 
system. 

IV.  The  apostles  were  not  strict  and  uniform  in  the  ob- 
servance of  these  usages. 

We  might  show  this  at  length,  if  time  and  space  would 
allow,  by  going  into  a  full  examination  of  the  ecclesiastical 
arrangements  of  the  early  church,  and  showing,  in  detail, 
how  changeable  and  fluctuating  they  were.  It  will,  however, 
be  sufficient  to  take  a  specimen,  especially  if  we  take  some 
one  so  conspicuous  and  important  in  its  character,  that  we 
may  safely  reason  from  that  to  the  ottiers. 

There  is,  for  example,  ordination  :  for  we  might  expect 
that  if  punctilious  uniformity  were  to  be  insisted  on,  in  any 
ecclesiastical  forms,  it  would  be  in  the  mode  of  induction  to 
the  sacred  office.  And  we  find  accordingly  that  a  very 
prominent  and  important  place  is  assigned  to  this  rite,  in 
our  discussions  at  the  present  day.  We  select  it,  however, 
here,  not  with  any  reference  to  these  discussions,  but  only  as 
a  conspicuous  and  proper  specimen  of  the  whole  class  of  cere- 
monial observances  to  which  it  belongs. 

In  the  first  place,  we  may  safely  infer  a  great  deal,  in 
respect  to  the  importance  attached  to  the  mere  mode  of 
induction  to  the  sacred  office,  from  the  manner  in  which 


222  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Ordination  of  the  twelve. 

the  whole  subject  of  the  ordination  of  the  twelve  apostles 
is  dismissed,  with  the  words,  "  And  he  ordained  twelve." 
Just  think  of  the  occasion, — think  of  the  men,  their  number, 
the  position  they  occupied,  conspicuous  and  important  beyond 
all  others, — and  then  consider,  how  imposing  and  solemn 
would  have  been  the  ceremony,  and  how  detailed  a  descrip- 
tion would  have  been  given  of  it,  if  the  views  and  feelings 
of  modern  times,  on  such  a  subject,  had  been  entertained  by 
our  Savior.  Instead  of  this,  it  is  simply  said,  "  And  he 
ordained  twelve  ;"  language,  which,  according  to  the  opinion 
of  the  ablest  commentators,  means  only  that  he  appointed 
them,  set  them  apart,  without  at  all  implying  any  ceremonial 
observance  whatever,  in  inducting  them  into  office. 

In  the  succeeding  portions  of  the  New  Testament,  the 
ordaining  of  the  apostles  and  preachers,  who  were  succes- 
sively added  to  the  original  number,  is  very  seldom  alluded 
to.  Contrast  this  with  the  prominence  given  to  the  time  and 
the  place,  and  all  the  circumstances  of  the  ordination  of  a 
Christian  minister,  in  modern  biography.  The  prominence 
given  to  this  solemnity  in  modern  times,  we  do  not  complain 
of  as  at  all  too  great.  A  distinct  and  special  preparation, 
a  formal  examination,  and  an  induction  into  office,  by  appro- 
priate ceremonies,  are  altogether  more  necessary,  to  guard 
against  improper  admissions  to  it  now,  in  a  community  where 
all  are  professedly  Christian,  than  they  were  in  apostolic 
days,  when  a  simple  desire  to  preach  the  gospel  was  almost 
of  itself,  proof  of  competence  and  honesty.  The  various 
ceremonial  observances,  by  which  different  denominations 
have,  in  modern  times,  guarded  the  entrances  to  the  gospel 
ministry,  are  thus  highly  necessary ;  but  we  ought  to  under- 
stand, that  the  necessity  arises  out  of  the  circumstances  of 
modern  times,  and  not  out  of  any  binding  obligation  in  favor 
of  the  precise  forms,  which  we  respectively  adopt,  arising 
from  apostolic  practices. 


THE    CHURCH    AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  223 

Ordination  of  Paul.  Ceremony  waved,  and  why. 

There  is  much  light  thrown  upon  this  subject,  by  the  case 
of  the  Apostle  Paul.  He  seems  not  to  have  been  ordained 
at  all  upon  his  first  entrance  into  the  ministry.  Immediately 
upon  his  conversion,  he  went,  at  once,  to  preaching  the  gos- 
pel at  Damascus,  and  it  was  three  years  before  he  had  oppor- 
tunity even  "to  confer  with  flesh  and  blood,"  as  he  terms  it, 
referring  to  the  other  apostles,  from  whom,  according  to  our 
theories,  he  could  alone  have  derived  any  proper  authority 
to  preach. 

But,  the  reader  will  say,  that,  as  Paul  had  an  interview 
with  the  Savior  himself,  he  derived  his  authority  directly 
from  him,  and  that  there  was  no  need  of  ordination  in  his  case. 
This  is  undoubtedly  true,  and  it  shows  at  once,  without  far- 
ther reasoning,  exactly  in  what  light  the  Founder  of  Chris- 
tianity regards  forms  ;  as  important  indeed,  but  important  as 
a  means,  not  as  an  end.  For  here,  where  the  spiritual  title 
was  so  sure,  the  Savior  was  content  to  wave  the  ceremony. 
If  now  he  had  intended  to  enforce  upon  all  succeeding  times 
the  indispensable  necessity  of  any  particular  ceremonial  con- 
ditions or  induction  into  the  ministry,  what  an  admirable 
occasion  offered  itself,  in  the  case  of  Paul,  to  show  this,  and 
to  teach  the  lesson  to  all  future  ages.  Instead  of  authoriz- 
ing him,  at  once,  to  preach  the  gospel,  suppose  he  had  enjoined 
him  to  wait  until  he  should  return  to  Jerusalem,  and  there 
be  regularly  inducted  into  office,  according  to  the  princi- 
ples of  ordination  which  had  been  established  for  the  church. 
This  would  have  been,  according  to  the  known  practice  of 
our  Savior  in  all  cases  of  forms,  really  binding.  The  parents 
of  the  Savior,  under  divine  direction,  took  him  to  the  temple, 
when  he  was  eight  years  old,  and  conformed  exactly  to  all  the 
Mosaic  ceremonies  of  circumcision  and  sacrifice.  Those  cere- 
monial laws  were  then  in  force,  and  the  exalted  dignity  of  the 
Savior  was  made  no  plea  of  exemption.  When  he  cured  the 


224  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Paul  not  ordained  by  Ananias. 

leper,  he  said  to  him,*  "  Go  show  thyself  to  the  priest,  and 
offer  for  thy  cleansing  according  as  Moses  commanded,  for  a 
testimony  unto  them."  What  !  shall  the  man  whom  Jesus 
Christ  had  cleansed,  find  it  necessary  to  go  and  secure  a 
ceremonial  purification,  according  to  the  law  of  Moses?  Yes. 
And  why  ?  That  he  might  show  that  the  Son  of  God,  ex- 
alted in  rank  and  character  as  he  is,  will  give  the  sanction 
of  his  example  to  conformity  with  even  ceremonial  law, 
when  he  comes  within  its  jurisdiction.  On  this  principle 
Jesus  attended  worship  at  the  synagogues,  he  paid  his  taxes, 
he  ate  the  passover,  and  his  whole  story  shows  that  he 
would  have  been  the  last  to  have  dispensed,  on  such  an 
occasion  as  this,  with  any  of  the  forms  which  he  had  really 
established  as  essential  modes  of  regulation  for  the  Christian 
church. 

Perhaps  the  reader  may  maintain,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
force  of  the  foregoing  reasoning,  that  Paul's  interview  with 
Ananias,  when  the  latter  laid  his  hands  upon  him,  immedi- 
ately after  his  conversion,  was  his  ordination  to  the  work  of 
the  ministry.  The  account  is  given  in  the  9th  chapter  of  the 
Acts, — but  it  is  expressly  stated,  that  the  object  of  this  laying 
on  of  hands,  was  not  to  induct  him  into  the  ministry,  but 
that  he  might  receive  his  sight.  And  then,  besides,  this 
ceremony  took  place  actually  before  Paul's  baptism.  Can 
any  contender  for  regularity  hi  forms  suppose  that  Paul  was 
ordained  a  minister  of  the  gospel  before  he  was  baptized  ? 

Besides,  Paul  was  long  after  ordained,  when  he  was  sent 
forth  as  a  missionary  with  Barnabas  at  Antioch,  as  recorded, 
Acts  xiii.  2,  3  :  "  The  Holy  Ghost  said,  Separate  me  Barna- 
bas and  Saul,  for  the  work  whereunto  I  have  called  them. 
And  when  they  had  fasted  and  prayed,  and  laid  their  hands 
on  them,  they  sent  them  away."  This,  it  must  be  observed, 
was  after  both  of  them  had  been  for  a  long  time  most  active 
*  Luke  v.  14. 


THE    CHURCH    AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  225 

Apollos.  The  ceremony  of  ordination,  a  specimen. 

and  efficient  preachers  of  the  gospel,  of  universally  acknowl- 
edged authority.  With  the  views  so  often  entertained  in 
modern  times,  respecting  ordination  in  a  prescribed  mode,  as 
the  only  proper  induction  to  the  duties  of  the  Christian  min- 
istry, how  can  this  case  be  explained  ? 

The  case  of  Apollos,  too,  is  remarkable.  He  was  born  in 
Alexandria,  and  came  to  Ephesus,  preaching  repentance  and 
a  coming  Savior.  Eloquent  and  mighty  in  the  Scriptures, 
his  preaching  had  great  power,  but  so  far  from  having  been 
regularly  ordained  by  the  apostles, — "  he  knew  only  the  bap- 
tism of  John."  While,  however,  he  was  thus  preaching  all 
that  he  had  learned  of  the  truth,  Aquila  and  Priscilla  met 
with  him.  And  what  did  they  do  ?  Did  they  censure  him 
for  pretending  to  preach  without  apostolic  ordination  ?  Did 
they  remonstrate, — did  they  attempt  to  silence  him  ?  No. 
They  took  him  unto  them,  and  "  expounded  the  way  of  God 
more  perfectly,"  and  then  bid  him  go  on.  They  gave  him 
letters  of  introduction  to  the  churches  in  Achaia,  exhorting 
the  disciples  to  receive  him.*  And  in  the  same  manner,  we 
shall  find  in  regard  to  a  large  portion  of  the  early  preachers, 
that  there  is  no  record  or  account  of  their  ordination  as  min- 
isters of  the  gospel,  whatever.  Whereas,  if  it  had  been  in- 
tended that  the  church  should,  in  all  coming  times,  comply 
with  certain  conditions  of  ordination,  as  essential  to  the  proper 
exercise  of  the  duties  of  the  Christian  ministry,  there  certain- 
ly would  have  been  good  care  taken  to  show  that  they  were 
complied  with  then. 

We  have  taken  the  ceremony  of  ordination,  only,  as  a  con- 
spicuous specimen.  Almost  any  of  the  other  forms  connected 
with  the  organization  of  the  church  might  have  been  taken 
just  as  well.  And,  let  me  repeat  here,  that  these  consider- 
ations do  not  at  all  go  to  the  undermining  or  disturbing  cf 
the  regular  ordinances  of  the  Christian  church,  as  now  ad- 
*  See  the  whole  account,  in  the  close  of  the  18th  chapter  of  tb«  Acts. 

K* 


226  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Apostolic  practice  not  infallible. 

ministered  by  the  various  denominations  of  our  day.  These 
views,  if  we  adopt  them,  will  not  diminish  our  attachment 
to  the  forms  of  our  own  church,  for  the  regular  and  appro- 
priate administration  of  its  government ;  they  will  only  lead 
us  to  ;«ase  to  look  with  jealousy  and  distrust  upon  the  forms 
and  principles  adopted  hy  other  denominations,  varying  some- 
what from  ours. 

V.  The  present  authority  of  these  usages,  rests  only  on 
the  mere  practice  of  good  men  in  early  times,  which  is  no- 
where in  the  Scriptures  made  binding. 

It  is  evident,  that  apostolic  practice  was  not  always  under 
divine  direction,  and,  if  we  attempt  to  make  it  an  infallible 
guide,  we  have  no  positive  means  of  knowing  when  it  was, 
and  when  it  was  not.  In  some  cases,  it  is  distinctly  stated 
that  the  conduct  of  the  Apostles  was  directed  by  the  Holy  Spirit. 
For  instance,  in  the  case  of  sending  Paul  and  Barnabas  on 
their  first  mission,  "  The  Holy  Ghost  said,  Separate  me  Bar- 
nabas and  Saul,"  &c.  And  so  in  another  case ;  "  They  as- 
sayed to  go  into  Bithynia,  but  the  Spirit  suffered  them  not." 
The  interference  of  a  divine  influence  seems  to  be  mentioned 
in  these  cases,  as  special, — extraordinary.  At  any  rate,  we 
know  perfectly  well  that  in  many  of  the  acts  of  their  admin- 
istration these  holy  men  were  not  under  divine  guidance 
Of  this,  the  case  of  contention,  which  occurred  between  Bar- 
nabas and  Saul  is  a  melancholy  proof.  The  question  in  that 
case  was,  it  is  true,  only  a  question  of  private,  individual  ac- 
tion ;  but  then  there  were  other  cases  where  the  apostleg 
were  evidently  left  to  their  own  judgment  and  discretion,  in 
regard  to  the  most  important  measures  of  the  church.  The 
case  described  in  Galatians  ii.  11 — 13,*  is  a  very  striking 

*  But  when  Peter  was  come  to  Antioch,  I  withstood  him  to  the  face, 
because  he  was  to  be  blamed.  For  before  that  certain  came  from 


THE    CHURCH    AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  227 

Distinction  between  writings  and  acts. 

one  of  this  sort.  The  question  related  to  the  course  which 
should  he  taken  with  the  Gentile  converts,  in  regard  to  the 
obligations  of  the  old  Jewish  law.  It  involved  the  vital  sub- 
ject of  the  connection  between  the  old  dispensation  and  the' 
new,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  latter  should  be  engrafted 
upon  the  former.  There  could  scarcely  be  named  a  subject 
connected  with  the  external  forms  of  Christianity,  more  fun- 
damental than  this.  Yet  Peter,  Peter  himself,  the  very 
apostle  to  whom  the  gospel  of  circumcision  was  specially 
committed,*  was  left  to  err  in  regard  to  it,  and  to  take  an 
altogether  wrong  course.  His  error  led  Barnabas  astray,  and 
Paul  comes  in  and  sharply  reproves  him  before  them  all. 
With  such  a  case  as  this  on  record,  we  certainly  can  not 
maintain  the  infallibility  of  apostolic  practice. 

We  ought  to  make  a  clear  distinction  between  the  truths, 
which  sacred  writers  have  recorded,  and  the  actions,  which 
they  perform.  This  distinction  is  not  always  made.  We 
confound  the  inspiration  of  the  writings  contained  in  the 
Scriptures,  with  the  inspiration  of  the  conduct  of  those  who 
penned  them.  Now  it  is  the  Scriptures,  that  is,  the  written 
records  of  truth,  which  are  our  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice. 
The  actual  measures  adopted  in  those  days,  are  totally  dis- 
tinct ;  and  it  is,  we  believe,  nowhere  claimed  by  the  sacred 
writers,  that  their  actions, — (whether  in  their  private  con- 
duct, or  in  their  administration  of  the  affairs  of  the  church,) — 
are  an  infallible  guide  for  us.  In  fact,  if  we  read  the  New 
Testament  attentively,  with  a  view  to  this  point,  we  shall 
be  satisfied  that  the  apostles,  in  their  administration  of  the 
church,  acted  for  themselves,  and  for  their  own  times,  not 

James,  he  did  eat  with  the  Gentiles  :  but  when  they  were  come,  he 
withdrew,  and  separated  himself,  fearing  them  which  were  of  the  cir- 
cumcision.    And  the  other  Jews  dissembled  likewise  with  him ;  inso- 
much that  Barnabas,  also,  was  carried  away  with  their  dissimulation. 
*  GaL  iL  7. 


228  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  Apostles  left  to  act  for  themselves. 


expecting  that  their  conduct  would  be  regarded  as  a  binding 
precedent  for  all  future  ages.  In  their  record,  whether  of 
historical  events,  or  of  revealed  religious  truth,  they  were 
infallibly  guided ;  but  in  their  actions,  they  were  left  to  their 
own  judgment  and  discretion, — subject,  of  course,  to  the  in- 
fluence of  such  general  principles  and  truths  as  had  been 
revealed  to  them.  Consequently,  they  went  on  acting  as 
occasion  demanded ;  adopting  such  plans  and  measures,  or 
applying  such  remedies,  as  were  called  for  by  the  peculiar 
emergencies  in  which  they  were  placed.  Sometimes  they 
were  right,  sometimes  they  were  wrong, — sometimes  they 
were  checked  in  their  proposed  measures  by  a  special  inter- 
ference of  the  Holy  Spirit,  sometimes  they  disagreed  and  even 
contended ;  and  if  we  attempt  to  give  to  any  of  their  meas- 
ures the  authority  of  a  precedent,  binding  upon  the  church 
in  all  ages,  we  can  not  possibly  draw  a  line  between  what  is 
thus  authoritative  and  what  is  not. 

Still,  we  must  not  go  to  the  other  extreme,  and  disregard 
the  examples  which  they  have  set  us.  The  practices  and 
usages  of  the  early  Christians  constitute  the  very  best  model, 
no  doubt,  for  us  to  study  and  to  imitate.  They  enjoyed  the 
most  favorable  opportunities  of  knowing  what  would  be 
agreeable  to  the  will  of  their  Master,  and  their  hearts  were 
warm  with  a  devotedness  to  his  cause  which  must  have  led 
them  to  do  his  will,  in  the  most  strict  and  faithful  manner. 
We  ought  therefore  to  study  their  acts,  and  to  imitate  the 
principles  by  which  they  were  guided.  But  when  we  at- 
'tempt  to  extend  to  their  conduct  the  infallibility  which  be- 
longs only  to  their  writings, — when  we  give  to  their  meas- 
ures and  administration  an  authority  to  bind  all  succeeding 
times,  we  insist  upon  what  they  never  claimed  for  themselves, 
and  what  can  not,  in  theory,  be  supported,  in  the  case  of  any 
scripture  character  whatever.  Noah,  David,  Solomon,  Dan- 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  229 

Apostolic  example  of  great  value. 

iel,  Paul,  Peter,  and  John,  give  abundant  evidence  that  they 
were  inspired  as  penmen  alone. 

The  disposition  thus  to  exalt  the  measures  and  administra- 
tion adopted  by  the  apostles,  into  precedents  binding  upon 
our  forms  of  organization,  as  their  writings  are  upon  our  be- 
lief and  moral  conduct, — though  it  is  thus  utterly  baseless 
and  defenseless  in  theory, — steals  insensibly  over  our  minds, 
and  exerts  a  powerful  influence.  In  fact  we  could  not  possi- 
bly attach  infallibility  to  apostolic  practice  as  an  avowed 
theory.  Such  a  doctrine  could  not  be  maintained  for  an 
hour  ;  but  it  insensibly  creeps  into  our  minds,  and  we  find 
ourselves  tacitly  admitting,  and  silently  acting  upon  that, 
which,  as  a  distinctly  stated  proposition,  we  should  immedi- 
ately reject.  I  repeat  it,  that  apostolic  example  is  of  im- 
mense value  and  importance  to  us, — but  it  is  not  authorita- 
tive precedent,  so  that  we  are  to  reduce  it  to  system,  and 
force  it  upon  every  company  of  Christians  on  the  globe,  upon 
pain  of  excommunication.  And  yet  the  attempt  to  do  this  is 
the  true  secret  of  the  divisions  and  jealousies  which  prevail 
in  the  Christian  world.  The  incidental,  scattered,  and  im- 
perfect allusions,  which  the  Apostles  made,  to  the  measures 
they  thought  called  for  in  their  days,  in  which  there  is  no 
evidence  whatever  that  they  were  infallibly  guided,  and 
which  they  probably  never  thought  would  be  looked  back 
upon  as  infallible  precedents, — these  allusions  we  search  out 
and  bring  together, — we  build  up  a  great  deal  of  meaning 
upon  expressions  very  brief  and  few,  and  we  mingle  with  the 
natural  import  of  the  record,  the  recollections  and  associa- 
tions with  which  our  own  peculiar  religious  history  has  stored 
our  minds, — and  the  complicated  system  which  we  thus 
form,  we  insist,  is  essential  to  Christianity. 

VI.  The  most  complete  system  which  can  be  drawn  from 


230  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Scripture  system  incomplete.  Congregational  additions ;— Episcopal. 

these  records  of  early  practice,  is  not  at  all  sufficient  for  the 
present  wants  of  the  Church. 

This  is  admitted  by  the  fact,  that  every  denomination  in 
Christendom  has  found  it  necessary  in  practice  to  make  many 
additions  of  their  own,  to  what  the  Scriptures  have  taught, 
in  order  to  complete  their  system.  If  any  precise  form  of 
organization,  under  which  the  church  was  to  exist  in  all 
ages  had  been  intended  to  be  prescribed,  we  should  have 
expected  that  a  complete  and  sufficient  system  would  have 
been  detailed,  or  at  least  exemplified,  in  the  primitive  model. 
Instead  of  this,  the  practice  of  every  denomination  in  Chris- 
tendom admits  that  after  all  that  the  most  persevering  inge- 
nuity can  draw  from  the  Scriptures  has  been  obtained,  there 
must  be  many  human  additions  to  the  edifice,  to  give  it 
completion.  The  Congregationalist  finds  no  authority  in  the 
Scriptures  for  his  examining  committee,  nor  for  his  articles 
of  faith,  nor  for  his  system  of  licensing  preachers,  nor  for  his 
election  of  a  pastor  by  concurrence  of  church  and  society,  nor 
for  his  associations,  or  his  consociations,  or  his  conferences. 
And  yet  these  things  may  all  be  right, — they  are  the  best 
modes  which  he  can  devise  for  accomplishing  very  important 
purposes,  and  for  which  the  directions  as  to  forms,  left  us  in 
the  New  Testament,  make  no  provision.  And  how  can  we 
account  for  their  not  having  been  provided  for,  if  the  precise 
regulation  of  forms  had  been  considered  by  the  sacred  writers 
an  object  of  very  special  importance. 

The  Episcopalian,  too,  is  in  the  same  case.  He  can  find 
no  authority  or  precedent  in  the  Scriptures,  and  so  far  as  we 
know,  he  pretends  to  find  none,  for  his  rite  of  confirmation, 
his  consecration  of  buildings  and  grounds,  his  church  war- 
dens, his  vestry,  his  liturgy,  his  saints'  days,  his  archbishops 
and  lords  primate  in  one  country,  and  his  general  conven- 
tions in  another.  We  do  not  find  fault  with  these  arrange- 


THE   CHURCH   AND   CHRISTIAN   UNION.  231 

The  most  essential  points  unprovided  for. 

ments  on  account  of  there  being  no  scripture  authority  foi 
them.  Though  they  are  all  human  institutions  and  arrange- 
ments, they  are  very  admirably  adapted,  most  of  them,  to 
the  purposes  intended.  And  as  the  Holy  Spirit  allowed  the 
Bible  to  be  brought  to  a  close,  without  giving  any  directions 
in  regard  to  the  very  important  objects  which  they  aim  at 
securing,  the  church  is  necessarily  left  to  frame  institutions 
for  itself,  to  cover  this  ground.  Every  denomination  has 
virtually  acknowledged  this,  by  resorting  to  plans  and  meas- 
ures for  which  nothing  like  a  prototype  can  be  found  in 
early  ages.  In  fact,  we  are  all  compelled  to  do  this,  for 
many  of  the  most  immediate  and  imperious  wants  of  the 
church,  in  respect  to  its  government  and  discipline,  seem  to 
be  left  without  any  arrangements  for  supplying  them  in  the 
sacred  record.  If  the  sacred  writers  had  felt  that  the  precise 
mode  in  which  Christianity  is  embodied  in  organized  forms 
was  of  as  much  importance  as  we  are  often  inclined  to  sup- 
pose, and  if  they  had  intended  to  frame  a  system  for  this 
purpose,  and  hand  it  down  as  a  model  for  all  posterity,  is  it 
conceivable  that  they  would  have  made  no  provision  for  the 
mode  of  supporting  the  gospel,  or  any  of  the  temporalities 
of  the  church,  nor  for  the  mode  of  electing  or  appointing 
pastors,  nor  for  the  examination  of  candidates,  nor  for  the 
admission  of  members,  nor  for  the  trial  and  deposition  of 
false  teachers,  nor  for  the  management  of  missionary  opera- 
tions, nor  for  the  erection  and  control  of  houses  for  public 
worship  ?  In  the  Jewish  law,  points  analogous  to  these 
were  most  minutely  and  fully  provided  for  by  ample  specifi- 
cations ;  for  there  it  was  the  intention  to  prescribe  a  form. 

The  reader  may,  perhaps,  endeavor  to  avoid  the  conclusion 
to  which  these  undeniable  facts  would  lead  him,  by  saying 
that  all  essential  arrangements  are  made,  and  that  it  is 
things  of  secondary  importance  only,  which  are  left  to  human 
discretion.  This  is,  however,  not  so.  Some  of  the  particu- 


232  THE   W.AY   TO   DO   GOOD. 

Possible  perversion  of  these  views. 

lars  enumerated  above  are  of  the  very  first  importance,  and 
yet  provision  for  them  is  wholly  omitted.  Others,  of  very 
far  less  importance,  are  prescribed.  Compare,  for  instance, 
the  mode  of  baptism,  whether  by  sprinkling  or  immersion, 
with  the  mode  of  examining  candidates  for  admission  into 
the  church,  or  the  mode  of  choosing  pastors,  or  of  collecting 
the  support  of  the  ministry.  While  we  admit  that  the 
former,  once  prescribed,  brings  with  it  the  most  imperious 
obligation  to  conform  to  the  prescription,  yet  certainly  no  one 
would  imagine  that  that  would  be  the  thing  selected  as  the 
one  to  be  minutely  fixed,  while  the  others  were  to  be  left 
without  any  regulation.  So  that  it  is  not  the  most  important 
things  which  will  be  found,  on  examination,  that  modern 
Christians  maintain  to  have  been  enjoined. 

Besides,  we  do  not  now  make,  in  practice,  any  such  dis- 
tinction between  what  was  originally  required  by  the  Apos- 
tles, and  the  human  additions  which  have  since  been  made. 
We  put  the  human  and  the  divine  parts  of  the  building  to- 
gether, and  make  one  system  out  of  the  combination ;  and 
this  system  we  insist  upon  as  a  whole.  The  use  of  the  liturgy 
is  insisted  upon  as  firmly,  and  considered  a§  essential  a  con- 
dition of  ministerial  connection  with  the  Episcopal  church, 
as  valid  ordination.  At  least,  according  to  the  theory,  no 
person  canvbe  a  member  of  the  true  church  of  Christ,  with- 
out adopting  the  one,  as  well  as  admitting  the  authority  of 
the  other ;  and  the  Catholic  is  not  less  tenacious,  to  say  the 
least,  of  homage  to  the  host,  than  of  the  observance  of  the 
Sabbath-day. 

Though  we  can  not  but  be  fully  satisfied  of  the  truth  of 
these  views,  we  are  aware  that,  like  all  other  truths,  they  are 
liable  to  be  perverted  through  the  almost  incurable  propen- 
sities of  many  minds  to  run  off  into  extremes.  The  con- 
siderations which  we  have  adduced,  show  conclusively  that 
the  precise  forms  and  modes  of  administering  ecclesiastical 


THE    CHURCH    AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  233 

•  The  marriage  ceremony. 

governments  are  not  prescribed ; — hence,  some  persons  will 
go  by  one  of  those  leaps  of  ratiocination  to  which  a  crazy  in- 
tellect is  fully  adequate,  to  the  conclusion  that  all  ceremony 
is  unscriptural,  and  that  all  steady  forms  of  government  and 
discipline  are  useless  trammels  upon  spiritual  freedom.  And 
perhaps  some  may  gravely  insist  that  they  can  not  perceive 
the  distinction  between  giving  up  the  necessity  of  regular  or- 
ganization altogether,  and  denying  that  the  precise  forms 
under  which  it  is  to  be  effected  are  minutely  prescribed. 
And  yet  there  is  the  marriage  relation  to  furnish  us  with  a 
striking  and  clear  illustration  of  this  distinction.  The  neces- 
sity of  a  ceremony  so  arranged  as  to  make  sure  the  important 
points,  such  as  the  deliberate,  settled  intention  of  the  parties, 
the  voluntariness  of  it  on  both  sides,  and  public  opportunity 
for  the  presentation  of  valid  objections,  is  admitted  every- 
where. The  principles  enjoined  in  the  Word  of  God  vir- 
tually require  this,  and  the  practice  of  all  Christian  states  rec- 
ognize it.  And  yet,  while  this  necessity  is  almost  every- 
where recognized,  acknowledged,  and  acted  upon,  and  these 
points  almost  everywhere  secured,  how  endlessly  various  are 
the  modes  of  securing  them.  Now  these  variations  are  of  no 
great  consequence,  provided  that  the  points  are  secured.  It 
is,  for  example,  of  not  very  material  consequence  whether  the 
intention  of  marriage  is  made  public  by  the  voice  of  the  town 
clerk,  or  by  a  posted  notice  on  the  church  door,  or  by  the 
publishing  of  the  bans  in  an  interval  of  the  service,  or  by 
advertising  in  a  newspaper, — provided  that  it  is  made  public 
in  some  way  or  other ;  and  provided  that  some  regular  and 
prescribed  form  is  adopted  in  every  community  for  securing 
it.  One  uniform  mode  for  all  nations  and  ages  is  not  pre- 
scribed in  the  gospel, — but  each  nation  and  age  is  left  to 
choose  its  own.  It  by  no  means  follows  from  this,  however, 
that  any  nation  or  age  is  at  liberty  to  abandon  marriage  cere- 
monies altogether.  There  is  an  obligation  to  take  some 


234  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Rite  of  confirmation. 

proper  ceremonial  measures  for  securing  certain  essential 
points,  but  no  obligation  in  respect  to  the  precise  form  of  the 
measures  themselves. 

In  the  same  manner,  the  principles  of  the  gospel  require 
that  the  church  should,  in  all  ages,  make  suitable  ceremonial 
arrangements  for  the  proper  examination  of  candidates  for 
admission  to  the  church,  and  for  the  deliberate  and  solemn 
induction  of  pastors  to  the  sacred  office,  and  for  the  regular 
and  orderly  support  of  the  Christian  ministry  ;  but  while  the 
obligation  to  see  that  some  proper  provision  for  these  points 
is  made,  is  imperious,  there  seems  to  be  no  authoritative  pre 
cedent  as  to  the  precise  form  which  they  shall  assume.  Thus, 
in  respect  to  the  candidate  for  admission  to  the  communion 
of  the  church,  the  various  branches  of  the  church  have  made 
very  different  provisions.  There  is  the  Methodist  class-leader 
in  one  case,  the  Episcopal  bishop  with  the  right  of  confirma 
tion  in  another,  the  Congregational  examining  committee, 
and  the  Presbyterian  session  ;  all  good  and  sufficient,  but  no 
scripture  authority  for  any  one  of  them.  There  are  scripture 
principles  requiring  some  one  or  other  of  them,  or  something 
equivalent,  to  guard  the  Christian  church  from  universal  cor- 
ruption,— but  there  is  no  scripture  precept  specifying  either 
of  these  modes  or  any  other  as  the  precise  mode  by  which 
these  objects  should  be  secured.  It  is,  therefore,  no  valid 
ground  of  objection  to  the  Episcopal  rite  of  confirmation,  for 
example,  that  the  service  was  drawn  up  in  the  middle  ages, — 
and  it  is  thus  a  human  contrivance  of  comparatively  modern 
times.  It  is  true  that  it  was  so  drawn  up  ;  it  is  true  that 
that  service  is  a  human  contrivance  of  comparatively  modern 
times, — but  it  is  a  contrivance  to  accomplish  a  purpose 
which  the  principles  of  Christianity  require  us  to  accomplish, 
namely,  the  deliberate,  and  cautious,  and  solemn  admission 
of  members  to  the  communion  of  the  church, — while  the  in- 
spired records  have  left  us  no  prescription  of  the  mode  by 


THE    CHURCH    AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  235 

Danger  of  one  consolidated  government 

which  we  should  accomplish  it ;  and  we  are  consequently 
left  to  frame  a  service  of  confirmation,  or  to  organize  a  church 
session,  or  appoint  a  committee,  according  to  the  circum- 
stances and  character  of  our  age  or  country,  and  our  own 
best  discretion. 

These  remarks  are  necessary  to  show,  that  throughout  the 
whole  discussion  contained  in  this  chapter  nothing  is  intended 
to  be  said  to  undervalue  the  importance  of  proper  and  steady 
ceremonial  regulations,  in  every  branch  of  the  church.  With- 
out these  the  objects  which  the  general  principles  of  organi- 
zation laid  down  in  the  gospel  require,  can  not  be  secured. 
And  as  we  have  already  remarked,  the  vie~v^f  exhibited  in 
this  chapter  will  not,  if  we  fully  adopt  them,  diminish  our 
attachment  to  the  ceremonies  of  our  own  communion,  nor 
weaken  our  conviction  of  the  importance  of  regular  and  steady 
arrangements  for  the  government  and  worship  of  the  church. 
They  will  only  convince  us  that  it  is  only  the  general  prin- 
ciples which  the  New  Testament  presses ;  and  that  as  one 
branch  of  the  church  has,  in  the  exercise  of  its  own  discretion, 
arranged  the  details  of  its  government  and  discipline  with 
reference  to  the  wants  of  its  own  country  and  times,  it  ought 
not  to  be  jealous  at  the  exercise  of  the  same  discretionary 
power  on  the  part  of  another. 

VII.  The  union  of  Christians  under  any  one  consolidated 
ecclesiastical  government  must  he  highly  dangerous,  if  not 
fatal,  to  the  cause  of  true  piety. 

When  we  conceive  of  one  great  Christian  organization, 
ramifying  into  every  country,  involving  itself  with  the  politi- 
cal concerns  of  a  hundred  governments,  forming  one  vast  and 
united  community,  with  its  own  rules  and  usages,  and  con- 
ditions of  admission, — and  extending,  even  in  the  present 
state  of  Christianity,  over  two  continents,  it  is  easy  to  see 


236 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


The  church  as  it  existed  in  the  middle  ages. 


what  enormous  abuses  and  evils  must  necessarily  be  involved 
in  it.  What  avenues  for  ambition — what  a  field  for  politi- 
cal intrigue  would  such  a  system  present !  How  impossible 
that  the  Author  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount,  could  have  con- 
templated such  a  system  for  extending  among  mankind  the 
meek  and  humble  virtues  of  the  gospel. 

But  we  are  saved  the  necessity  of  speculating  on  the  prob- 
able consequences  of  such  a  plan,  for  we  have  had  the  ex- 
periment. The  church  as  it  existed  in  the  middle  ages  ex- 
hibits to  us  the  scene  ;  clothed  with  power  and  splendor, — 
in  herself  a  continental  empire, — she  opened  the  highest  and 
broadest  field  for  human  ambition,  and  was  the  great  cor- 
rupter  and  destroyer  of  souls.  Christianity  then  felt  the  effects 
which  such  a  system  must  inevitably  bring.  The  church 
shone  in  courts, — she  rode  in  splendid  processions, — she  pre- 
sided over  the  most  august  ceremonies  in  gorgeous  cathedrals, 


c  •-- 


THE    CATHEDBA.L. 


THE   C1IURCH   AND   CHRISTIAN   UNION.  237 

Sanction  of  God's  Spirit. 

— she  was  a  party  to  every  political  quarrel,  and  often  led 
her  own  troops  on  to  open  war.  She  put  her  victims  to  the 
torture,  buried  true  piety  in  dungeons,  and  burnt  the  inno- 
cent at  the  stake  ;  while  true  devotedness  to  the  real  gospel 
of  Christ  fled  from  her  presence  and  her  power,  and  hid  itself 
in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  or  escaped  to  the  fastnesses 
of  the  mountains.  These,  too.  were  not  accidental  and  ex- 
traordinary effects.  They  were  the  natural  results  ;  they 
might  easily  have  been  foreseen  as  the  inevitable  consequences 
of  presenting  such  a  field  to  human  ambition  and  intrigue, 
as  one  ecclesiastical  organization,  extending  over  fifty  or  a 
hundred  nations,  and  governed  by  one  central  power. 

VIII.  God  sanctions  by  the  influences  of  his  Holy  Spirit, 
the  existence  and  the  operations  of  all  those  denominations 
of  Christians,  whatever  may  be  their  forms,  whose  faith  and 
practice  correspond  with  his  Word. 

This  is  evident  from  the  success  which  has  for  the  last 
century  attended  the  efforts  of  the  several  great  branches 
of  the  church,  differing  widely  as  they  do  in  their  modes  of 
organization  and  worship.  This  arrangement,  one  would 
think,  must  have  some  influence  upon  all  those  who  believe 
that  the  special  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  are  necessary 
to  the  success  of  any  of  our  efforts  to  spread  the  gospel. 
By  giving  triumphant  success  in  so  many  instances  to  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  under  Episcopalian,  and  Baptist,  and 
Methodist,  and  Presbyterian,  and  Congregational  forms,  does 
not  the  Holy  Spirit  sanction  the  organizations  under  which 
these  several  branches  of  the  church  respectively  act,  at 
least,  so  far  as  to  show  that  there  is  nothing  in  either  which 
excludes  them  from  being  branches  of  the  true  church  of 
Christ  ?  If  the  success  of  efforts  to  save  souls  was  a  result 
which  human  instrumentality  could  itself  secure,  unaided 


238  THE   WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  result.  Present  state  of  the  church. 

and  alone,  we  should  not  argue  divine  approbation  from  the 
mere  fact  that  God  would  not  interfere  to  prevent  success. 
But  when  it  is  admitted  that  success  can  not  be  obtained 
without  the  special  agency  and  co-operation  of  God,  one 
would  think  its  attainment  would  prove  that  the  organization 
under  which  it  is  secured,  could  not  be  regarded  by  the  Holy 
Spirit  as  very  radically  wrong.  We  can  not  suppose  that 
he  would  habitually  appear  to  give  his  influences  to  systems 
of  government  and  discipline  opposed  to  the  directions  of 
Scripture,  and  whose  prevalence  could  only  tend  to  under- 
mine and  destroy  the  true  church  of  God.  The  argument 
which  Peter  used,  to  prove  that  Gentiles,  remaining  such, 
might  be  admitted  to  the  church  of  God,  was,  that  "  God 
bears  them  witness,  giving  them  the  Holy  Ghost,  even  as  he 
did  unto  us,  and  put  no  difference  between  us  and  them, 
purifying  their  hearts  by  faith."*  This  argument  seems  to 
be  as  good  and  as  applicable  now,  as  then.  Whom  the  Holy 
Spirit  acknowledges,  we  ought  not  to  disown. 

Now  are  not  these  considerations  sufficient  to  show  at  least 
that  the  degree  of  importance  now  commonly  attached  to  the 
distinctive  peculiarities  of  the  various  denominations  of  Chris- 
tians, is  greater  than  the  real  state  of  the  case  will  justify? 
We  believe  that  they  do,  and  that  the  admission  of  this 
truth  by  the  churches  generally  affords  the  only  hope  of  the 
healing  of  our  dissensions,  which,  perhaps,  more  than  all 
other  causes  combined,  hinder  the  progress  of  religion.  The 
present  state  of  things  is  certainly  melancholy  in  the  extreme. 
Each  of  the  several  great  denominations  considering  its  own 
peculiarities  essential  to  the  character  of  a  true  church,  the 
members  of  one  are  suspicious  and  jealous  of  the  others. 
They  must  necessarily  be  so,  for  they  must  regard  all  others 
as  schismatics.  They  may,  indeed,  allow  that  many  of  the 
*  Acts  xv.  8, 9. 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN   UNION.  239 

Cities ;  villages.  The  real  difficulty 

members  of  other  communions,  as  individuals,  are  good  men, 
but,  as  organized  into  ecclesiastical  bodies,  they  must  deem 
them  irregular  and  schismatical.  Thus  the  members  of  each 
denomination  excommunicate  the  others,  and  must  do  so  as 
long  as  they  maintain  that  their  own  peculiarities,  though 
not  necessary  to  personal  salvation,  are  essential  to  the  char- 
acter of  a  true  church.  There  is,  accordingly,  between-  these 
denominations,  at  the  central  points,  in  great  cities,  suspicion, 
jealousy,  mistrust,  maneuvering  and  counter-mano3uvering. 
And  the  evil  influence  spreads  out  to  the  remotest  extremi- 
ties, among  the  remote  and  thinly  peopled  districts  of  the 
country.  The  evil  is,  in  fact,  aggravated  here,  for  all  the 
Christian  strength  which  can  be  gathered  from  the  thin  and 
scattered  population,  is  only  sufficient  to  sustain  and  carry 
forward  the  cause  of  Christ,  if  united  and  at  peace.  But 
divided,  and  mutually  jealous  and  hostile,  its  moral  power  is 
destroyed,  and  the  community  around  slumbers  hopelessly  in 
its  sins. 

And  observe,  that  it  is  not  the  fact  of  division  alone,  which 
makes  the  case  so  desperate.  It  is  the  circumstance,  that 
each  branch  in  so  many  instances  considers  the  others  irregu- 
lar and  spurious,  so  as  to  make  it  a  matter  of  conscience  to 
oppose  them.  It  is  the  fact  that  each  one  is  so  sure  that  its 
own  peculiarities  are  essential  to  such  an  organization  as  will 
be  pleasing  to  the  Savior,  that  it  must  utterly  condemn  all 
others.  This  makes  each  one  hopelessly  rigid  and  tenacious 
of  its  position.  It  gives  to  party  spirit  a  perverted  conscience 
for  an  ally,  in  the  work  of  keeping  up  the  walls  which  sepa- 
rate one  branch  from  another.  And  of  all  alliances,  that  of 
party  spirit  with  a  perverted  conscience  is  the  most  obstinate 
and  indissoluble.  Even  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  upon  a 
Christian  community  thus  situated,  does  not  remove  the  evil. 
For  if  men  honestly  believe  that  the  communion  of  Christians 
to  which  they  do  not  belong,  is  not  organized  on  principles 


240  THE   WAY   TO    DO    GOOD. 

Permanence  of  it.  The  disease  an  intermittent. 

acceptable  to  Christ,  they  must  oppose  it, — secretly  or  openly, 
they  must,  if  they  are  faithful,  oppose  it.  And  the  more 
their  hearts  are  stimulated  to  interest  and  fidelity  in  the  Sa- 
vior's cause,  the  more  decided  will  he  their  hostility.  They 
may  suppress  or  conceal  it,  hut  it  will  still  reign.  It  will 
keep  its  hold  in  every  denomination,  notwithstanding  all  pre- 
tensions to  brotherly  love,  so  long  as  the  false  idea  is  retained, 
that  Jesus  Christ  meant  to  prescribe  all  the  peculiarities 
which  they  respectively  insist  upon.  While  this  idea  re- 
mains there  can  not  even  be  a  plea  for  union  offered,  by  any 
one  who  entertains  it,  which  will  amount  to  any  thing  more, 
in  fact,  than  a  call  upon  the  members  of  other  denominations 
to  come  and  join  his  own. 

Such  is  the  condition  of  the  Christian  church  ;  while,  in 
the  mean  time,  the  world  lies  almost  undisturbed  in  its  sins. 
Nature,  however,  in  this,  as  in  other  diseases,  prompts  to 
some  struggles  for  relief.  These  spontaneous  efforts  are  of 
two  kinds.  First  come  contentions  by  argument, — each 
party  attempting  to  prove  that  its  own  forms  are  according 
to  the  true  apostolic  model.  An  argument  from  one  quar- 
ter arouses  resistance  and  a  counter-argument  from  another  ; 
and  all  being  equally  in  the  wrong,  in  claiming  exclusive 
validity  for  their  own  modes,  the  result  of  the  contest  depends 
upon  the  ability  of  the  leaders,  or  upon  the  circumstances 
and  the  prejudices  of  the  minds  which  they  act  upon.  Things 
remain,  however,  in  general,  very  much  the  same  after  the 
battle  as  before  ;  no  extensive  changes  of  opinion  result, 
though  each  one  clings,  in  consequence  of  the  contest,  more 
strongly  to  his  own.  At  length,  wearied  out  with  the  un- 
profitable warfare,  the  parties  sink  into  a  state  of  temporary 
repose. 

This  fruitless  struggle  being  over,  it  is  succeeded,  perhaps, 
after  a  short  pause,  by  one  of  a  different  kind.  A  fit  of  love 
and  co-operation  comes  on.  Union  in  measures  and  plane  is 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN    UNION.  241 

Hot  fit  and  cold  fit.  The  old  texts. 

proposed, — the  parties  each  still  thinking  its  own  church  is 
the  only  true  one.  They  agree  however  to  lay  aside  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  theory,  and  see  if  they  can  not  act  together  ; 
and  they  form  a  benevolent  society,  or  arrange  a  union  prayer- 
meeting,  or  a  public  lecture  in  common.  But  while  each 
portion  of  the  church  considers  its  peculiarities  essential,  and 
all  other  organizations  schismatic,  what  kind  of  a  union  can 
this  be  ?  It  is  inevitable  that  each  party  will  be  watchful 
and  jealous.  If  they  mean  to  take  a  high-minded  and  honor- 
able course,  they  will  be  anxious  and  watchful  lest  they 
should  themselves  do  something  to  offend  their  allies  ;  and 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  they  are  narrow-minded,  and  envious, 
they  will  be  on  the  watch  lest  the  others  should  do  some- 
thing unjust  toward  them.  The  very  nature  of  the  case 
shows,  what  all  experience  confirms,  that  such  alliances 
between  the  denominations,  while  each  one  considers  itself 
the  only  true  church,  will  always  be  of  the  nature,  not  of  a 
peace  among  friends, — but  of  a  temporary  aud  jealous  truce 
between  foes. 

Accordingly,  after  this  plan  has  been  tried  a  little  while, 
the  lurking  alienation  creeps  in  again.  The  public  lecture 
ends  in  a  general  heart-burning  among  the  branches  of  the 
church,  instead  of  conviction  among  the  impenitent ; — the 
great  benevolent  society  resolves  itself  into  its  sectarian  ele- 
ments ;  and  the  union  prayer-meeting,  perhaps,  breaks  up  in 
an  open  explosion. 

Then,  perhaps,  comes  on  another  controversy,  in  which 
the  same  old  arguments,  the  same  old  texts,  the  same  old 
quoting  of  precedents,  and  straining  of  words,  and  emphasiz- 
ing of  particles,  are  brought  forward  against  one  another  for 
the  thousandth  time,  to  prove  what  never  can  be  proved. 
Thus  the  disease  alternates.  It  is  an  intermittent.  There 
is  the  cold  stage  and  the  hot  stage  ; — the  chilly  fit  of  con- 
troversy, and  the  fever  fit  of  forced  and  pretended  love.  In 

L 


242  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  only  remedy  for  the  evil. 

the  mean  time,  the  church  moans  in  increased  weakness  and 
suffering,  and  sin  and  Satan  rejoice  that  an  enemy  which  they 
could  not  have  conquered  in  battle,  is  conquered  for  them  by 
a  pestilential  and  destructive  disease. 

What  remedy  now  can  there  possibly  be  for  these  evils 
but  for  Christians  to  cease  to  attach  so  much  importance  to 
the  differences  of  form  which  separate  them  ?  Is  it  not 
plain  that  it  is  this  over-rated  importance  which  each 
denomination  attaches  to  its  own  form  of  organization,  or 
to  its  own  modes  of  performing  the  ceremonies  of  Christian- 
ity, that  constitutes  the  repellancy  between  the  branches  ? 
Is  it  not  plain,  too,  that  it  is  this  refusal  to  acknowledge  one 
another,  and  not  simply  the  division,  which  makes  the  trou- 
ble ?  For  if  this  spirit  of  hostility  and  exclusion  were 
removed,  the  obstacle  to  coalescence  would  be  removed ;  and 
though  the  present  great  denominations  might  remain,  they 
would  live  together  as  sister  branches,  and  individual  Chris- 
tians would  consider  it  of  comparatively  little  importance  to 
which  they  might  belong.  The  man  whose  mind  is  so  con- 
stituted that  his  devotion  is  aided  by  forms  of  prayer,  would 
not  be  jealous  of  his  neighbor  because  he  preferred  an 
extemporaneous  petition ;  and  a  devoted  servant  of  Jesus 
Christ,  going  to  reside  among  an  ignorant  and  vicious  popu- 
lation, might  perhaps  hesitate  whether  a  Methodist  or  a 
Congregational  mode  of  government  would  afford  him  great- 
est facilities  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  Master's 
work.  Thus  each  grand  division  of  the  church  would  wish 
well  to  the  others,  considering  them  all  as  branches  of  the 
true  church  of  Christ.  This  they  never  can  do  now,  for  not- 
withstanding all  attempts  at  union,  and  all  pretended  love, 
it  is  plain  that  one  branch  can  never  really  wish  well  to 
another,  while  they  consider  it  only  an  irregular  association 
of  good  men  ;  pious,  but  deceived  ;  and  hanging  like  an  ex- 
crescence and  a  burden  about  the  true  church  of  Christ. 


THE    CHURCH   AND    CHRISTIAN   UNION.  243 

Prospect  of  a  change.  Summing  up  the  case. 

Thus  the  giving  up  the  essential  importance  of  any  par- 
ticular modes  of  church  government  and  worship,  would  pro- 
duce a  right  state  of  feeling  among  the  great  denominations 
of  Christians.  The  members  of  each  would  undoubtedly 
feel  a  special  interest,  as  they  ought  to  do,  in  the  prosperity 
of  their  own  branch  of  the  church,  but  the  bitterness  of  dis- 
sension would  all  disappear.  The  simple  admission  of  the 
other  denominations  to  the  rank  of  sister  branches  of  the  true 
church,  would  change  the  whole  aspect  of  their  relations  to 
one  another.  Where  the  population  was  large  and  dense, 
the  tastes  and  habits  of  different  classes  might  be  accommo- 
dated by  arrangements  suited  to  all ;  and  where  it  was  scat- 
tered and  thin,  the  question  among  Christians  would  simply 
be,  which  of  the  several  equally  regular  branches  of  the  church 
of  Christ  shall  \ve  build  up  here  ;  and  it  seems  as  if  it  would 
be  impossible  to  keep  true  Christians  from  coming  together, 
on  such  a  question. 

I  am,  however,  far  from  being  so  sanguine,  as  to  suppose 
that  any  very  sudden  change  is  to  take  place  in  the  church, 
in  respect  to  her  internal  dissensions.  All  that  we  can  now 
hope  to  do,  is,  to  find  the  direction  in  which  the  path  to 
future  peace  and  happiness  lies.  This  has  been  the  object 
of  this  chapter. 

To  sum  up  the  case,  then,  in.  conclusion,  if  we  wish  to  do 
all  we  can  toward  giving  the  Christian  church  that  efficiency 
and  moral  power,  which  she  is  designed  to  exercise,  we  must 
heal  her  divisions  ;  and  the  first  step  toward  this,  is  to  banish 
from  our  own  bosoms  those  suspicions  and  jealousies  which 
so  often  separate  the  several  branches  of  the  great  family. 
It  is  idle  to  hope  that  either  of  these  branches  will  ever 
conquer  and  swallow  up  the  rest.  A  struggle  for  this  end 
only  thickens  the  walls,  and  strengthens  the  defenses,  and 
animates  the  hostility  which  separates  the  contending  parties. 


244  THE    WAY    TO   DO    GOOD. 

Spiritual  integrity  of  the  church. 

It  is  time  for  the  church  to  take  a  different  ground,  to  take 
those  views  of  the  place  and  province  of  modes  and  forms, 
which  is,  most  evidently,  when  we  come  to  consider  the  sub- 
ject, everywhere  taken  of  them  by  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
We  may  cling  to  our  own  institutions  as  strongly  as  we 
please,  and  zealously  endeavor  to  promote  their  prosperity. 
But  when  we  reflect  how  much  there  is  that  is  confessedly 
human  in  the  structure,  let  us  cease  attempting  to  compel 
all  others  to  give  up  their  attachments  for  the  sake  of 
embracing  ours. 

We  should  show  a  great  ignorance  of  human  nature, 
and  of  the  state  of  opinion  in  the  various  branches  of  the 
church,  if  we  did  not  expect  that  the  views  advanced  in 
this  chapter  would  meet  with  opposition.  The  best  of  men, 
the  most  devoted  of  Christians,  who  have  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  look  forward  to  a  consolidation  of  the  church,  and 
whose  imaginations  have  painted  in  very  glowing  colors  the 
magnificence  and  beauty,  but  have  concealed  the  fatal  dan- 
gers of  such  a  result,  will  shrink  from  the  doctrines  which 
we  have  attempted  to  maintain.  Others  will  have  lived  too 
many  years  under  the  feeling  of  an  exclusive  attachment  to 
their  own  forms,  to  think  for  a  moment  of  admitting  others  to 
a  theoretical  equality,  and  they  will  consider  the  prevalence 
of  these  views  as  fatal  to  the  integrity  of  the  Church.  But 
the  true  church  of  Christ  is  a  spiritual  edifice, — ITS  INTEGRITY 
is  A  SPIRITUAL  INTEGRITY  ;  and  that  integrity,  these  views,  if 
admitted,  will  establish,  not  destroy.  They  will  make  the 
church  one,  as  Christ  was  one  with  his  disciples,  that  is,  in 
heart,  and  feeling,  and  desires, — and  not  merely  in  the  frail 
bonds  of  official  connection.  We  are  convinced  that  the 
prevalence  of  these  views  affords  the  only  hope  of  the  pacifi- 
cation of  the  Christian  Church ;  and  it  is  this  conviction  of 
their  vital  importance  as  a  means  of  enabling  the  Church 
to  accomplish  the  full  work  of  doing  good,  which  God  has 


THE    CHURCH   AND   CHRISTIAN   UNION.  245 

Conclusion. 

assigned  her,  that  has  compelled  us  to  introduce  the  discussion 
here. 

We  believe  too,  that  the  Church  is  already  beginning 
extensively  to  receive  these  views,  and  the  effect  which  we 
expect  from  this  chapter,  upon  a  vast  majority  of  its  readers, 
is,  not  to  teach  any  thing  new,  but  to  reduce  to  form,  and  to 
establish,  views  which  they  have  long  been  insensibly  im- 
bibing. Let  us  extend  them,  and  the  pacification  of  the 
Church  is  accomplished  forever.  They  can  be  extended 
without  disturbing  the  plans  or  the  progress  of  any  branch 
of  the  church  of  Christ.  They  will  go  from  heart  to  heart, 
from  closet  to  closet,  and  from  prayer-meeting  to  prayer- 
meeting,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before  their  fruits  will  be 
seen  in  the  establishment  of  a  friendly  intercourse  between 
all  the  branches  of  the  great  family  of  the  Savior. — Then 
shall  Episcopacy,  venerable  with  age,  and  strong  in  the 
moral  power  of  the  hallowed  associations  which  cluster 
around  her ; — and  Congregationalism,  active  and  vigorous 
in  its  simplicity,  finding  its  ready  way  to  the  new  and  ever- 
changing  scenes  of  human  life  ; — and  Methodism,  warm 
with  emotion,  penetrating  into  the  mightiest  masses  of 
society,  and  changing  the  excitements  of  sin  into  the  warm, 
happy  emotions  of  piety ; — and  Presbyterianism,  with  its 
steady  and  efficient  government,  its  faithful  standards,  and 
its  devoted  ministry ; — these  and  all  other  branches  of  the 
great  army  of  God,  shall  all  move  forward,  side  by  side, 
against  the  one  great  enemy  of  their  common  Master.  The 
world  will  no  longer  point  to  our  contentions,  and  quiet 
themselves  in  sin,  but  they  will  see,  though  our  forms  and 
usages  may  differ,  that  still,  in  heart  and  purpose,  WE  ARE 
ONE. 


246  THE  WAY  TO  DO  GOOD. 


Plan  of  this  work. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    SICK. 
"Sick,  and  ye  visited  me." 

AN  inspection  of  our  table  of  contents  would  not  lead  the 
reader  to  suppose  that  any  very  logical  plan  was  pursued  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  topics  discussed  in  this  work.  The 
work  is,  in  fact,  to  be  considered  as  a  connected  train  of 
thought,  rather  than  a  systematic  arrangement  of  several  in- 
dependent subjects  of  discussion.  Accordingly,  after  two  or 
three  preliminary  chapters,  we  took  up  the  first  and  most  ob- 
vious source  of  suffering  which  obtrudes  itself  upon  our  no- 
tice, in  this  valley  of  tears.  This  subject  was  poverty  ;  and, 
as  in  the  consideration  of  it,  we  saw  that  poverty  admitted 
of  no  effectual  remedy  but  the  removal  of  its  moral  causes, 
we  were  led  at  once  to  the  discussion  of  the  great  moral 
remedy  for  all  moral  evils, — the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and 
the  modes  by  which  this  remedy  is  to  be  most  effectually  ap- 
plied. Having  in  the  three  last  chapters  considered  this 
subject  in  its  three  most  important  aspects,  we  now  return  to 
the  other  great  branch  of  physical  evil. 

Sickness  ;  the  twin  sister  and  companion  of  want,  and  the 
sharer  with  her  of  the  empire  of  human  suffering.  Like 
poverty,  she  is  the  daughter  of  sin,  but  is  farther  sepa- 
rated from  her  mother.  Sin  moves  on,  and  sickness  lingers 
often  behind  ;  so  that  you  may  deal  with  sickness  separately, 


THE   SICK.  247 

Sickness  and  want.  Safe  to  do  good  to  the  sick. 

Want,  on  the  other  hand,  clings  closely  to  her  parent ;  they 
make  common  cause,  and  stand  or  fall  together. 

But  to  drop  the  metaphor, — although,  as  the  Bible  teaches 
us,  all  sickness  and  pain  are  to  be  considered  as  the  conse- 
quence of  sin,  yet  they  sometimes  come  from  it  so  indirectly, 
and  are  separated  from  it  so  far,  by  lapse  of  time,  and  are 
sometimes  in  so  slight  a  degree  connected  with  personal  trans- 
gression, that  we  may  apply  our  remedy  directly  to  it,  with 
comparatively  little  danger.  In  fact,  there  are  several  con- 
siderations making  our  duty  toward  the  sick  a  very  important 
part  of  the  field  of  benevolent  action. 

1.  We  can  very  easily  afford  a  great  deal  of  relief  and 
even  of  happiness  to  the  sick  ;  and  that  safely.  To  bestow 
relief  even  if  it  is  only  temporary  relief  is  an  object  worth 
securing,  provided  that  it  can  be  secured  without  danger. 
When  we  relieve  the  distresses  of  poverty  by  our  friendly  in- 
terposition, we  are  always  solicitous  lest  we  may,  in  the  end, 
make  more  unhappiness  than  we  remove.  The  distress  may 
be  feigned,  or  it  may  be  in  some  way  connected  with  deception, 
and  our  aid,  in  such  a  case,  will  only  encourage  and  embolden 
fraud.  Or  a»man  may  have  neglected  to  make  provision  for 
coming  wants,  when  he  might  have  provided  for  them,  and 
then,  when  he  begins  to  feel  their  pressure,  we  may  cut  off 
the  influence  of  a  salutary  lesson  for  the  future,  by  the  relief 
which  we  can  not  find  it  in  our  hearts  to  deny.  It  sometimes 
seems  almost  cruel  to  admit  such  suspicions,  but  it  is  only  the 
extreme  of  inexperience  or  of  folly  that  can  be  blind  to  them. 

In  cases  of  sickness,  however,  they  do  not  apply.  All  the 
good  that  we  can  do  in  the  chamber  of  actual  disease  or  suf- 
fering, is,  with  exceptions  very  few  and  rare,  a  work  at  least 
of  safety. 

And  then,  besides  the  safety  of  it,  doing  good  in  a  sick 
room,  is  a  very  effectual  way  of  doing  good.  We  work  there 
to  great  advantage.  A  very  little  effort  gives  a  great  deal 


248  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  sick  laborer.  Good  easily  and  safely  done. 

of  relief,  or  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  Perhaps  it  is  owing  to 
the  feelings  of  helplessness  and  dependence,  which  sickness 
brings,  or  perhaps  to  the  effect  of  disease  in  awakening  the 
susceptibilities  of  the  mind,  and  rendering  the  sufferer  more 
sensitive  to  kindness,  as  we  know  he  is  to  sounds,  and  light, 
and  pain.  The  sternest  man  will  be  softened,  if  you  ap- 
proach him  with  relief,  or  even  with  sympathy,  when  he  is 
in  sickness  or  pain. 

Thus,  if  there  are  within  the  reach  of  our  walks,  a  num 
ber  of  cases  of  sickness  among  the  poor,  and  unfortunate,  and 
neglected,  there  is  no  way  in  which  you  can  spend  a  few 
hours  in  each  week  in  doing  more  immediate  and  effectual 
good,  than  in  seeking  out  the  cases,  and  carrying  to  them 
your  relief,  or  at  least  your  sympathy.  There  is,  for  ex- 
ample, in  one  lowly  home,  a  poor  man  laid  upon  his  hard, 
uncomfortable  bed,  by  an  accidental  injury  received  in  his 
work, — and  the  want,  it  required,  while  he  was  in  health 
his  unremitting  and  constant  exertion  to  keep  at  bay,  begins 
to  take  advantage  of  his  helplessness,  and  to  press  its  iron 
grasp  upon  the  mother  and  children.  Now  you  may  visit 
him, — your  words  of  sympathy  and  encouragement  may  save 
them  all  from  despair.  Your  aid  may  find  a  little  employ- 
ment for  the  wife,  or  for  a  child,  or  a  little  medical  advice 
for  the  patient,  so  as  to  hasten  his  release  ;  and  thus  with  a 
strict  economy  of  your  means  of  doing  good,  you  may,  by  a 
small  expenditure  of  time,  and  money,  and  care,  give  at 
once  great  immediate  relief,  and  save  a  whole  family  from 
much  future  sufferiug.  And  while  you  are  doing  tt,  the 
light  of  Christian  example  and  character  which  you  will 
cause  to  shine  into  that  dark  home,  may  allure  some  of  its 
inmates,  in  the  end,  to  the  banner  under  which  you  are 
serving. 

Then,  again,  here  is  another  case.  An  incurable  disease 
of  a  limb  is  wasting  away  a  little  patient,  and  carrying  him 


The  child. 


THE    SICK. 


Happiness. 


249 

Old  ago. 


slowly  and  surely  to  the  grave.  Without  pain,  and  with 
very  little  general  disease,  he  is  confined  by  the  apparatus  of 
the  surgeon  in  one  position,  which  there  is  only  the  faintest 
possible  hope  that  he  will  ever  leave,  till  he  is  released  from 
it  to  be  laid  in  the  last  position  of  mortality.  Till  then,  how- 
ever, his  arms  and  eyes  are  at  liberty,  and  his  soul  is  free ; 
and  contented,  cheerful,  and  happy,  he  welcomes  you  day  after 
day  with  a  smile,  as  you  come  to  admire  the  little  windmills, 
and  boxes  that  he  makes  with  his  penknife  and  glue, — or  to 
give  him  new  drawings  to  copy, — or  a  new  book  to  read, — 
or  to  sit  at  his  bedside,  with  your  hand  upon  his  brow,  wish- 
ing that  all  the  suffering  and  the  wretched  could  be  as  happy 
as  he. 


THE  CRIPPLE. 


Again,  there  is  age,  decrepit  old  age, — sitting  helplessly 
by  the  fireside,  in  his  ancient  chair.  His  generation  has  gone 
off  and  left  him,  and  he  is  alone.  He  feels  like  a  stranger 


250  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Consumption  and  her  victims. 

among  the  beings  that  have  sprung  up  all  around  him,  as  it 
were  in  a  day,  and  his  thoughts  and  his  memory  run  hack 
spontaneously  to  times,  and  men,  and  events  that  now  are 
gone ;  and  which,  though  they  are  every  thing  to  him,  are 
nothing  now  to  any  body  beside.  It  is  painful  to  him  to  find 
that  the  knowledge  and  recollection  to  which  alone  his  mind 
runs  back  with  interest  and  pleasure,  are  insignificant  and 
worthless  to  all  around  him.  Now  you  may  look  in  upon 
him  a  few  minutes,  as  he  sits  in  his  armed  chair  in  a  winter 
evening,  or  stop  to  talk  with  him  a  moment  under  the  trees, 
before  his  door,  at  sunset,  in  June  ;  and  by  your  tone  of  kind 
ness  and  interest,  and  the  air  of  respectful  consideration  al- 
ways due  to  age,  you  revive  the  heart  of  the  aged  pilgrim  to 
sensations  of  happiness,  which  beam  over  his  soul  brightly, 
while  you  are  with  him,  and  linger  there  long  after  you  are 
gone.  The  enjoyment  is  but  little,  I  admit, — but  then  the 
expense  is  very  little,  by  which  it  is  secured. 

Then  besides  all  these  sources  of  sickness  and  suffering, 
there  is  often  near  us,  and  sometimes  at  our  very  firesides,  a 
visitor  whom  we  scarcely  know  whether  to  call  an  enemy  or  a 
friend.  New  England,  if  not  her  native  land,  is  at  least  her 
loved  and  chosen  home.  She  thrives  in  the  refreshing  cool- 
ness of  our  northern  clime.  The  air  of  the  sea-breeze,  of  the 
cool  autumnal  evening,  and  of  the  wintry  storm,  constitute 
her  very  vital  breath.  Her  form  is  slender  and  delicate, — a 
little  too  delicate  and  feeble  for  gracefulness  ;  and  her  cheek, 
though  it  blooms,  does  not  bloom  exactly  with  beauty  ;  but 
then  her  eye  is  bright,  and  her  forehead  is  of  marble.  Her 
name  is  Consumption. 

She  loves  New  England,  and  lingers  unobserved  among  us 
in  a  thousand  scenes.  She  is  always  busy  here,  selecting  her 
victims  among  the  sensitive  and  the  fair,  and  commencing 
secretly  that  mysterious  process  of  entanglement,  by  which 
they  are  to  become  at  last  her  hopeless  prey.  She  loves  the 


THE    SICK.  251 

The  family  and  friends  of  the  sick. 

slow  moonlight  walk,  the  winter  sleigh-ride,  and  the  return 
in  the  chilly  coach  at  midnight  from  the  crowded  city  assem- 
bly. She  helps  make  up  the  party  in  the  summer  evening 
sail,  uninvited,  unwelcome,  and  unobserved, — but  still  there, 
taking  her  choice  from  all  the  lovely  forms  before  her.  She 
knows  too  well  how  to  choose.  She  can  appreciate  intelli- 
gence, beauty,  sensibility,  and  even  moral  worth,  and  in  the 
collected  assembly  of  her  victims,  you  would  find  some  of  the 
brightest  and  loveliest  specimens  of  humanity. 

Now,  perhaps,  you  may  find  some  one  of  these  victims  in 
the  circle  of  your  walks,  and  you  may  easily  do  a  great  deal 
to  relieve  weariness,  and  restlessness,  and  pain,  during  the 
long  months  of  decline,  and  to  soothe  the  sufferings  of  the 
last  hours. 

The  good  which  the  Christian  visitor  may  do  in  the  sick 
chamber  is  not  confined  to  the  suffering  patient.  The  family 
and  friends  are  comforted,  and  sustained,  and  strengthened, 
by  the  influence  of  your  presence.  No  one  who  has  not  ex- 
perienced it  can  tell  how  valuable  is  the  spontaneous  and 
heartfelt  sympathy  of  a  friend,  to  a  family  suffering,  in  one 
of  its  members,  the  invasion  of  alarming  or  fatal  disease. 
The  heart  of  the  wife  sinking  within  her  in  anxiety  and  ter- 
ror at  her  husband's  sufferings  or  delirium,  is  refreshed  and 
strengthened  as  by  a  cordial,  when  a  kind  neighbor  comes  in 
to  share  her  watch  and  her  anxious  care.  And  so  the  hearts 
of  parents,  distressed  and  filled  with  anguish  at  witnessing 
the  last  struggles  of  an  infant  child,  are  cheered,  and  sus- 
tained, and  comforted,  by  the  presence  and  the  silent  sym- 
pathy of  the  friend,  who  watches  with  them  till  midnight 
brings  the  last  breath  and  the  last  pulsation,  and  gives  the 
little  sufferer  repose.  There  is  in  fact  no  end  to  the  variety 
of  modes  by  which  kindness  to  the  sick  is  effectual  in  reliev- 
ing pain  and  promoting  happiness.  Sickness  seems  to  soften 
the  heart  and  awaken  all  its  susceptibilities  of  gratitude  and 


252  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Cases.  Influence  to  be  gained.  A  family  changed. 

happiness.  Kindness  and  sympathy  are  never  so  longed  for 
and  so  welcome  as  here  ;  and  never  touch  the  heart  more 
effectually,  or  awaken  stronger  feelings  of  gratitude  and  affec- 
tion. It  may  be  all  merely  temporary  pleasure  which  is  thus 
communicated  ;  but  it  is  real  and  great,  if  it  is  temporary, 
and  it  can  be  all  accomplished  with  little  effort  and  little 
danger. 

2.  By  kind  attention  to  the  sick,  we  may  gam  an  influence 
in  favor  of  piety  over  the  sick  themselves,  and  over  the  fam- 
ilies to  which  they  belong.  Piety  is,  in  respect  to  mankind, 
love  ;  and  in  no  way,  perhaps,  can  its  true  character  be  more 
fairly  shown  than  in  the  sick-room.  The  colors,  too,  in  which 
it  appears  there,  are  all  alluring.  In  ordinary  intercourse 
with  mankind  the  pressure  of  business,  or  the  forms  and  usages 
of  social  life,  repress,  in  a  great  degree,  those  moral  manifes- 
tations which  shine  out  spontaneously  in  the  sick-room,  and 
exhibit  clearly  there  the  character  of  that  submission  to  God 
and  that  kind  interest  in  man,  which  the  Savior  commands 
us  to  let  shine  as  a  light  in  this  dark  world  of  sin. 

Thus,  in  many,  many  instances,  a  cold,  heartless,  unbeliev- 
ing, and  perhaps  vicious  father,  has  been  led  to  see  the  real- 
ity of  religion  by  his  intercourse  with  the  Christian  friend 
who  has  come  to  visit  his  sick  child.  In  fact,  sickness  seems 
often  sent,  as  it  were,  to  open  a  door  of  admission  to  an  un- 
godly family,  by  which  the  gospel  may  enter  in.  The  family 
are  first  grateful  for  the  kindness, — then  they  see  the  moral 
beauty  of  the  character  which  exhibits  it.  The  religious  con- 
versation which  is  offered  in  a  kind,  conciliating,  and  unas- 
suming tone,  in  the  sick  chamber,  or  around  the  fireside  in 
an  adjoining  room,  is  listened  to  with  a  respectful  attention, 
though,  perhaps,  under  no  other  circumstances  could  it  have 
found  an  access  to  those  ears.  These  first  steps  may  not  be  very 
important  ones,  but  it  is  something  to  bring  the  soul  which  is 
utterly  hostile  to  God,  to  a  parley.  The  reading  of  proper 


THE    SICK.  253 


A  danger  pointed  out. 


religious  books, — an  occasional,  and  at  length  a  regular  at- 
tendance at  the  house  of  God,  are  perhaps  the  succeeding 
steps  ;  and  when  a  family  is  brought  thus  far,  by  the  gentle 
and  unassuming  moral  influence  which  may  without  great 
difficulty  be  exerted  over  them,  it  is  safe  to  expect  that  the 
change  will  go  farther.  It  is  into  such  a  family  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  loves  to  enter  and  complete  the  work  which, 
without  his  aid,  could  not  even  have  been  begun.  Reader, — 
is  there  not  within  your  reach  a  family  of  unhappy  wanderers 
from  God,  into  which  sickness  has  gone  and  opened  a  door  of 
easy  and  pleasant  access  to  you  ?  Inquire  and  ascertain  ; 
and  if  there  is,  find  your  way  there  without  delay,  and  by 
kind,  unceasing,  and  delicate  attentions,  fasten  a  silken  cord 
of  gratitude  and  affection  to  their  hearts,  by  which  you  may 
draw  the  inmates  to  the  Savior  and  to  happiness. 

Or  if  the  family,  to  which  you  show  Christian  kindness  in 
sickness,  is  cultivated  and  refined,  though  worldly,  the  light 
of  Christian  character  is  brought  to  their  minds  more  dis- 
tinctly than  before,  and  it  comes  in  a  more  alluring  form. 
They  are  your  neighbors  or  acquaintances,  but  as  you  have 
been  mutually  conscious  of  the  great  difference  between  you 
and  them,  in  respect  to  your  religious  sentiments  and  hopes, 
each  party  has  imagined  feelings  of  coldness  and  reserve  to 
exist  in  the  other ;  nothing  is  more  common  than  this  state 
of  feeling  between  religious  and  irreligious  acquaintances  or 
friends.  Now  the  sickness  which  gives  you  the  opportunity 
of  showing  kindness,  breaks  down  the  barrier,  and  changes 
the  look  and  tone  of  cold  reserve,  which  each  party  imagined 
that  he  was  adopting  in  self-defense,  to  the  open,  and  cor- 
dial, and  honest  expressions  of  good- will. 

It  is,  however,  somewhat  dangerous  to  point  out  these  in- 
direct results  which  come  from  kindness  to  the  sick,  lest  they 
should  lead  our  deceiving  and  deceitful  hearts  to  an  affecta- 
tion of  benevolence,  or  of  solemnity,  for  the  purpose  of  secur- 


254  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Spiritual  good  of  the  patient. 

ing  them.  But  there  is  no  disguise  so  slim,  at  least  there  is 
none  more  easily  seen  through  by  the  intelligent  observer, 
than  affectation  of  piety  ; — the  solemn  look,  assumed  to  suit 
the  supposed  proprieties  of  an  occasion, — the  affected  tone,  a 
clumsy  counterfeit  of  the  inflections  of  real  feeling, — the 
forced  conversation,  constrained,  unnatural,  indirect, — and 
the  prayer,  in  which  the  speaker  pretends  to  be  addressing 
the  Supreme,  when  you  perceive  at  once,  from  the  rhetorical 
structure  of  his  sentences,  and  the  clumsy  insinuations  and 
allusions,  that  the  bystanders  only  are  in  his  mind.  If  this 
is  the  kind  of  Christian  light  which  these  paragraphs  tend  to 
kindle  in  the  sick-rooms  which  the  readers  may  visit,  they 
had  better  never  have  been  written.  No,  let  us  be  honest, 
open,  direct  in  all  we  say  or  do.  If  we  feel  no  emotion,  let 
us  never  feign  any  ;  never.  Let  us  see  that  our  hearts  are 
right  toward  God  and  man,  and  then  let  our  words  and  looks 
freely  follow  the  impulses  which  they  receive  from  within, 
It  is  only  honest,  frank,  open-hearted,  unaffected  piety  which 
can  gain  any  great  or  permanent  ascendency  in  such  a  world 
as  ours. 

3.  By  kindness  to  the  sick  we  have  also  some  hope  of  pro- 
moting the  spiritual  good  of  the  patient, — though  we  confess 
that  this  hope  must  be  faint  and  feeble.  The  good  that  is 
done  is  mainly  that  specified  under  the  preceding  heads  ; 
either  the  present  relief  and  comfort,  amounting  sometimes 
to  positive  enjoyment,  which  results  directly  from  the  effort, 
or  the  influence  in  favor  of  the  cause  of  piety,  resulting  from 
the  exhibition  of  its  true  character  in  its  own  appropriate 
sphere.  These  are  often  overlooked,  and  the  chief  hopes  of 
the  Christian  visitor  are  directed  to  the  spiritual  benefit  of 
the  patient  himself,  which  we  have  melancholy  evidence  is 
very  seldom  in  any  great  degree  attained.  This  evidence, 
however,  though  it  is  melancholy,  we  ought  to  see.  It  is 
best  for  us  to  understand  what  hopes  there  are  of  preparation 


THE    SICK.  255 

Natural  effect  of  sickness.  Dangers. 

for  death  on  a  sick-bed,  both  for  our  own  guidance  in  respect 
to  others,  and  also  that  we  may  know  what  to  calculate 
upon,  ourselves,  in  respect  to  our  own  last  hours. 

"  But  why,"  the  reader  will  ask,  who  is  accustomed  to 
think  that  sickness  brings  with  it  peculiar  opportunities  for 
repentance,  "  why  is  it  that  we  may  not  hope  to  promote  the 
spiritual  good  of  the  sick  ?  They  are  then  withdrawn  from 
the  world.  The  power  of  its  temptations  is  destroyed, — 
eternity,  if  not  actually  near,  is  at  least  seen  more  distinctly, 
and  more  fully  realized.  There  are  many  long  hours  favor- 
able to  reflection,  and  every  thing  seems  to  invite  to  repent- 
ance for  sin  and  reconciliation  with  God." 

This  is  all  true,  and  if  nothing  but  an  invitation  to  the 
favor  of  God,  and  urgent,  alarming  necessity  for  reconciliation 
with  him  were  wanting,  every  sick  man  conscious  of  sick- 
ness, would  be  sure  to  be  saved.  But  unhappily  it  is  not  all. 
There  is  a  heart  to  be  changed.  A  heart  which  shrinks 
from  God,  dislikes  communion  with  him,  and  loves  sin,  is  to 
be  so  entirely  altered  in  its  very  fundamental  desires  as  to 
seek  God  eagerly  and  spontaneously,  as  its  refuge,  its  home, 
its  happiness, — to  delight  in  his  presence  and  communion, 
and  to  hate  and  shrink  from  sin.  Now  the  natural  effect 
of  sickness  is  simply  to  awaken  uneasiness  or  anxiety,  and 
we  can  see  no  special  tendency  in  uneasiness  or  anxiety  to 
produce  such  a  change  in  the  very  desires  and  affections  of 
the  soul  as  this. 

But  let  us  look  at  the  facts  a  little  more  in  detail.  There 
are  several  distinct  conditions  in  which  the  dangerously  sick 
may  be  found,  and  most  of  them  are  such  as  to  preclude  the 
possibility  of  deriving  any  spiritual  benefit  from  the  supposed 
facilities  afforded  by  their  situation.  We  will  consider  some 
of  these. 

(1.)  A  large  class  never  know  their  danger,  or  at  least 
have  no  time  to  think  of  it  until  they  are  too  far  gone  to  be 


256  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Various  classes.  Deceptions  of  friends. 

sensible  of  it.  Thus  for  all  purposes  of  reflection  they  know 
nothing  of  their  sickness  till  they  are  convalescent,  or  until 
they  awake  in  eternity.  For  example  a  man  in  the  midst 
of  his  business  is  suddenly  attacked  by  severe  acute  disease. 
The  shooting  pains,  the  chills,  the  fever  alarm  him,  and 
anticipating  a  fit  of  sickness,  he  is  busy  to  the  last  moment 
of  his  ability  to  act,  in  making  arrangements  and  giving  di- 
rections ;  and  when  he  can  do  no  more  there  follows  the 
bustle  of  preparation  in  his  room, — the  visit  of  the  physician, 
the  bath,  or  the  friction,  or  the  venesection.  An  hour  or 
two  spent  thus  is  succeeded  by  a  disturbed  slumber,  from 
which  he  awakes  in  delirium.  Perhaps  a  fortnight  after- 
ward God  raises  for  a  single  hour  the  mysterious  pressure 
under  which  the  soul  had  been  imprisoned,  and  the  unhappy 
man  has  barely  time  to  see  the  grave  open  at  his  feet,  before 
clouds  and  darkness  shut  in  again  over  his  soul,  and  he  sinks 
forever. 

Precisely  this  would  be,  indeed,  a  case  of  uncommonly 
sudden  and  severe  disease,  but  many  such  occur,  and  very 
many  occur  which  are  precisely  like  it  in  the  essential  point, 
that  is,  that  the  patient  never  knows  his  danger,  nor  reflects 
seriously  upon  his  sickness,  till  it  is  too  late  for  him  to  under- 
stand it  at  all.  These  cases  are  rendered  more  numerous 
by  the  almost  universal  tendency,  on  the  part  of  family  and 
friends,  to  present  to  the  patient  the  brightest  side  of  his  case. 
This  arises  not  always  from  a  deliberate  intention  to  deceive, 
— in  fact,  the  parent,  or  the  friend,  standing  by  the  bedside, 
cherishes  himself  the  hope  which  he  wishes  to  present  to  the 
patient ;  and  he  unconsciously  overrates  the  grounds  of  it,  in 
his  desire  to  give  the  sick  one  the  advantage  of  its  exhilara- 
ting and  sustaining  power.  At  other  times,  the  truth,  too 
plain  to  the  physician  and  the  friends,  is  suppressed,  and 
concealed  from  the  deceived  sufferer  ;  and  the  grave  grasps 
him  while  the  words  are  actually  on  the  lips  of  his  attend- 


THE    SICK.  257 

Indifference  and  stupor. 


ants  that  assure  him  that  he  shall  soon  be  well.  Oh,  how 
often  have  parents  thus  deceived  their  dying  children.  How 
can  they  do  it  ?  How  can  they  bear  to  allow  one  who  looks 
up  to  them  with  entire  confidence  and  affection,  to  go  from 
them  suddenly  into  eternity,  and  have  there  to  reflect  that 
the  last  words  which  he  heard  his  father  and  his  mother 
speak  to  him  were  words  of  falsehood  and  deception  ? 

Still,  nothing  is  more  common  than  this,  and  from  these 
and  other  similar  cases  it  comes  that  a  very  large  number 
of  human  beings  finish  their  pilgrimage  without  a  warning. 
Of  course,  the  sick-bed  affords  no  facilities  for  a  preparation 
for  death,  to  them. 

(2.)  Then  there  is  another  large  class  whose  disease  or 
state  of  mind  is  such  that  they  can  not  safely  be  addressed 
on  the  subject.  That  is,  the  probability  that  any  good  will 
be  done,  by  religious  conversation  with  them,  is  smaller,  than 
that  if  left  to  mental  quiet,  they  may  recover,  and  be  brought 
to  repentance  by  future  opportunities  for  enjoying  the  means 
of  grace.  There  are  many  cases  where  the  most  faithful 
Christian  physician  would  require  perfect  quiet  and  repose  ; 
and  we  are  not  obstinately  to  insist  on  pressing  the  guilt  and 
danger  of  the  sinner  upon  his  attention,  where  the  probable 
result  would  be  only  to  aggravate  disease,  and  hasten  death, 
and  thus  secure,  at  once,  the  ruin  from  which  we  were  en- 
deavoring to  save  him.  The  cases,  however,  where  a  kind 
and  judicious  religious  influence  over  one  in  a  state  of  dan- 
gerous disease,  would  really  be  unsafe,  are  not  very  common  : 
but  those  where  the  patient  or  the  friends  think  .it  would  be 
unsafe,  so  as  to  feel  obliged  to  preclude  it,  are  numberless. 
They  form  a  second  large  class  of  patients  who  can  not  be 
expected  to  be  much  benefited  by  the  opportunities  which 
sickness  affords  them. 

(3.)  Then  there  are  a  great  number  who  sink,  in  sickness, 
into  a  state  of  indifference  and  stupor  from  which  nothing 


258  THE   WAY    TO   DO   GOOD. 

Alarm.  Agitation,  anxiety,  and  unhappiness. 

can  arouse  them.  Whether  this  is  one  of  the  innumerable 
forms  of  the  infatuation  of  sin,  or  some  peculiar  mental 
torpidity  resulting  from  the  disease,  the  effect  is  certain,  and 
the  instances  innumerable.  Sometimes  the  patient  shrinks 
from,  and  shuns,  the  conversation  that  would  awaken  him, — 
and  sometimes  he  welcomes  it,  and  listens  to  it,  as  if  he 
wished  that  it  might  produce  its  proper  effect, — and  then  he 
complains,  with  stupid  despair,  that  he  can  see  his  guilt  and 
danger,  but  can  not  feel  them. 

Hardness  of  heart  does  not  arise  from  such  causes  as  that 
approaching  death  will  certainly  remove  it.  It  is  a  moral 
insensibility  which  has  its  existence  within  itself,  and  is 
slightly  affected  by  mere  external  causes.  If  the  habits  of 
life  have  formed  and  fixed  it,  it  will  sometimes  maintain  its 
hold,  even  to  the  last  hour. 

(4.)  Then,  besides,  of  those  who  are  led  to  feel  some  alarm 
a  very  large  proportion  never  go  farther  than  alarm.  They 
are  agitated,  and  anxious,  and  unhappy ;  but  agitation  is  not 
piety, — and  anxiety  about  death,  is  not  preparation  for  it. 
In  fact,  the  feeling  of  restless  suffering  is,  probably,  in  many 
cases,  only  a  manifestation  of  actual  hostility  to  God.  The 
soul  finds  itself  brought  up,  as  it  were,  to  meet  its  Maker. 
It  sees  that  it  is  approaching  the  close  of  its  connection  with 
the  world,  and  that  the  course  of  time  is  drawing  it  directly 
on  toward  God.  It  looks  this  way  and  that  way  for  escape, 
but  finds  none  ;  and  its  restless,  anxious  uneasiness  is  only  a 
shrinking,  with  instinctive  dislike,  from  the  great  Being  to 
whom  it  ought  to  fly  eagerly  as  to  its  refuge  and  home. 
If  this  is  its  condition  then,  the  more  restless  are  its  alarms, 
the  greater  is  its  hostility  ;  and  it  goes  at  last  into  the  pres- 
ence of  its  Maker,  like  the  terrified  child  into  the  arms  of  a 
stranger  whom  it  dislikes  and  dreads. 

These  four  classes  constitute,  undoubtedly,  a  very  large  por- 


THE    SICK.  259 

The  deceived.  Nervous  influences  of  sickness. 

tion  of  the  sick, — but  we  must  thin  the  number  that  is  left, 
a  little  more  ;  for 

(5.)  There  are  the  deceived.  One  would  think,  that  on  a 
sick  and  dying  bed  the  heart  would  abandon  its  subterfuges 
and  deception,  and  be  honest  with  itself  at  last,  before  it 
goes  into  eternity.  Instead  of  this,  however,  self-deception 
maintains  its  hold  here,  as  in  its  last  intrenchment. 

In  fact,  a  little  reflection  would  convince  us  at  once,  that 
the  circumstances  of  a  sick-bed  are  such  as  to  create  very 
great  danger  of  self-deception.  That  loss  of  interest  in  the 
world,  which  is  the  result  of  confinement,  weakness,  and  pain, 
— how  easily  may  it  be  mistaken  for  a  heartfelt  and  volun- 
tary renunciation  of  it.  Death,  too,  may  seem  near, — bring- 
ing with  it  all  its  terrors,  and  under  its  threatening  aspect 
the  spirit  sinks.  Now  how  easy  it  is  for  the  soul  to  welcome 
the  idea  of  reconciliation  with  God,  simply  as  a  relief  from 
anxiety  and  suffering,  and  then  to  imagine  that  to  be  the 
chosen  object  of  its  love,  to  which  in  fact  it  only  flies  as  a 
refuge  from  fear.  Then  again,  sickness,  though  it  sometimes 
inflames  and  irritates  the  spirit,  perhaps  often  softens  and 
soothes  it,  by  some  mysterious  physical  influence  exerted  by 
it  upon  the  nervous  system.  The  selfish,  turbulent,  and  un- 
governable child  often  lies  subdued  and  quieted  under  its 
hand,  and  gladdens  his  mother's  heart  by  his  unlocked  for 
manifestations  of  submission  and  gratitude  ; — the  nurse  wel- 
comes returning  irritability  as  a  sign  of  returning  health. 
This  morbid  loveliness  of  spirit,  like  the  unnatural  brightness 
of  the  eye,  or  hectic  bloom  upon  the  cheek,  is  often  the  com- 
panion of  disease,  and  not  unfrequently  the  immediate  pre- 
cursor of  death.  It  calms  all  the  passions  of  the  soul,  it  lulls 
the  sensorium  into  rest,  and  disarms  temptation  of  its  power, 
by  taking  away  the  very  fuel  it  feeds  upon.  It  gives  the 
kindest  and  gentlest  intonations  to  the  voice,  and  spreads  over 
the  countenance  an  expression  of  benevolence  and  submission. 


260  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  attendant  of  piety ;  its  counterfeit. 

It  often  mingles  with  piety,  and  clothes  it,  in  its  last  hours, 
with  a  most  fascinating  loveliness ; — but  alas,  it  also  often 
takes  its  place, — its  most  successful  and  yet  most  superficial 
counterfeit.  It  deceives  death, — meeting  him  with  a  smile  ; 
but  convalescence  is  its  certain  detection  and  exposure.  For 
when  health  is  returning,  its  colors  soon  fade,  and  its  moral 
loveliness  turns  to  irritability,  fretfulness,  and  selfish,  sus- 
picious jealousy.  How  far  the  movements  of  a  soul,  thus  so 
directly  modified,  either  favorably  or  unfavorably,  by  the 
nervous  influences  of  disease,  are  to  be  considered  as  affected, 
in  respect  to  moral  character  and  accountability,  is  a  ques- 
tion too  deep  for  us  to  enter  into  here.  One  thing,  however, 
is  certain,  that  if  we  make  allowances  on  this  account,  as  by 
common  consent  we  do,  for  wha,t  is  wrong,  we  must  also 
make  some  deductions  of  credit  for  what  is  right. 

But  we  ought  to  repeat  that  the  state  of  mind  and  heart 
which  we  have  been  describing,  though  sometimes  the  coun- 
terfeit of  piety,  is  often  its  attendant,  so  that  the  graces  of 
character  which  are  exhibited  in  the  sick-chamber,  where 
there  is  evidence  of  a  stable  foundation  on  which  they  rest, 
are  not  to  be  considered  as  unsubstantial  and  transitory. 
Every  visitor  among  the  sick  will  call  to  mind  cases  where 
the  solid  characteristics  of  real  piety  shone  with  a  heavenly 
beauty  and  splendor,  imparted  to  them  apparently  by  these 
mysterious  influences  of  lingering  disease.  While  saying 
this,  there  rises  to  my  mind  the  recollection  of  one  sick-room 
which  exhibited,  before  all  others  that  I  have  seen,  the  most 
striking  example  of  it.  It  was  that  of  the  child  Nathan 
Dickerman,*  whose  chamber  during  the  last  months  of  his 
life,  beamed  with  an  expression  of  loveliness  and  peace,  which 
no  pen  can  describe. 

Those  grim  tyrants,  disease  and  death,  seemed  in  his  case, 
to  relax  from  their  sternness  and  cruelty,  that  they  might 
*  Memoir  of  Nathan  W.  Dickermaa 


THE    SICK.  261 

Little  Nathan  Dickerman. 


vary  their  work  of  oppression,  as  other  tyrants  have  done,  by 
showing  for  once  what  they  could  do  in  lavishing  kindness 
and  decorations  upon  a  favorite.  It  is  true  that  they  insisted 
that  he  should  he  their  prey,  and  so  they  maintained  with 
inflexible  determination  their  own  destructive  hold  upon  the 
organs  of  life ;  though  he  was  their  favorite,  he  must  wear 
their  chain.  For  the  rest,  all  was  kindness.  They  bright- 
ened his  intellect,  they  expanded,  almost  beyond  maturity, 
his  embryo  powers,  they  smoothed  the  features  of  his  counte- 
nance into  an  almost  heavenly  expression,  and  breathed  into 
his  soul  an  atmosphere  of  indescribable  sweetness,  and  peace, 
and  enjoyment.  These  stern  and  uncompromising,  and  usu- 
ally pitiless  masters,  appeared  disposed,  in  his  case,  to  lay  aside 
their  terrors.  For  once  they  seemed  to  love  their  victim  ; — 
they  smiled  upon  him  where  he  lay. 

The  enchanting  expression,  however,  which  beamed  from 
the  whole  scene  which  his  little  room  exhibited,  was  indebted 
for  its  chief  lineaments  to  a  most  sincere  and  unaffected  piety. 
There  was  abundant  evidence,  of  this, — evidence  too  of  the 
most  undoubted  character.  But  piety,  in  such  a  case  as  this 
substantial  and  sure,  is  softened  and  beautified  by  the  influ- 
ence of  disease.  It  is  the  corporeal  and  the  animal  only 
which  fails  ;  all  that  is  pure,  and  lovely,  and  beautiful  in  the 
spirit,  in  the  intellect,  in  the  soul,  rises  the  more  free  and 
the  more  resplendent  for  being  released  from  its  ordinary 
burdens. 

But  to  return  ;  this  mysterious  effect  produced  by  disease, 
in  subduing  and  softening  all  the  asperities  of  the  character, 
which  sometimes  accompanies  piety,  perhaps  oftener  merely 
assumes  the  guise  of  it.  This  therefore  forms  one  of  the  im- 
mense variety  of  modes  by  which  the  soul  deceives,  and  is  it- 
self deceived. 

When,  now,  we  come  to  consider  all  these  numerous  cases 
in  which  no  spiritual  benefit  is  derived  from  the  opportunities 


262  THE    WAY   TO   DO   GOOD. 

Practical  rules.  Imposture. 

afforded  by  a  sick-bed, — those  who  are  cut  off  too  suddenly 
to  know  their  situation,  those  who  are  rendered  inaccessible 
by  the  nature  and  violence  of  their  disease,  those  who  are 
indifferent  and  stupid,  those  who  are  only  alarmed,  and  those 
who  are  deceived, — we  shall  have  but  few  remaining  who 
can  be  considered  as  making  any  effectual  preparation  for 
death,  when  sickness  comes  with  its  warnings.  The  good, 
therefore,  which  we  are  to  expect  to  effect  by  our  visits  to 
the  sick  and  the  suffering,  is  chiefly  in  other  ways  than  in 
the  preparation  of  the  individual  sufferer  for  his  approach- 
ing account.  There  is,  however,  some  hope,  even  of  this. 
It  is  one  of  the  objects  at  which  we  have  to  aim. 

Having  thus  brought  to  the  view  of  the  reader  the  nature 
of  the  good  which  he  must  expect  to  do,  we  proceed  in  the 
remainder  of  this  chapter,  to  enumerate  some  of  the  more 
plain  and  important  directions  necessary  to  enable  him  most 
successfuly  to  effect  it. 

1.  In  your  arrangements  for  visiting  and  relieving  cases  oT 
sickness  among  the  poor,  be  always  on  your  guard  against  im- 
posture. Go  forward  freely  and  openly  to  the  relief  of  suffer- 
ing, wherever  you  find  it,  but  be  constantly  awake  to  the 
probability  that  you  may  in  any  case  be  deceived.  Nothing 
surpasses  the  readiness  with  which  the  vicious  poor  resort  to  a 
feigning  of  sickness  and  suffering  in  order  to  procure  undeserved 
charity,  unless  it  be  the  adroitness  with  which  they  carry  their 
wicked  schemes  into  effect.  Sometimes  the  disease  is  entirely 
a  fabrication,  and  sometimes  a  little  reality  is  made  the  basis 
of  long-continued  indications  of  suffering.  In  fact,  we  often, 
by  our  own  indiscreet  and  profuse  benefactions  to  a  sick 
family,  actually  produce  such  a  state  of  things  that  recovery 
would  be  a  calamity.  We  place  them  under  a  strong  temp- 
tation to  dissemble,  and  the  lesson  once  learned  is  not  soon 
forgotten. 

These  remarks  may  seem  rather  severe  and  even  cruel. 


THE   SICK.  263 

Necessity  of  caution.  Quietness  and  delicacy. 

They  are  severe,  I  admit,  and  I  assure  my  readers  that  I  ex- 
ceedingly regret  the  necessity  of  making  them.  It  is  far 
easier  for  us,  and  pleasanter  at  first,  to  give  the  reins  to  sen- 
timent, and  follow  on  wherever  she  leads  the  way.  But  cool, 
calculating,  intelligent  principle  is  a  better  leader  in  the  end. 
We  need  warm  feeling  as  a  companion  in  the  voyage,  but 
the  understanding  does  better  at  the  helm.  What  I  have 
stated  above,  and  similar  views  exhibited  in  the  chapter 
on  the  Poor,  are  unquestionably  the  truth,  and  whoever  is 
not  willing  to  know  the  truth,  even  where  it  is  unpleasant, 
will  never  be  very  efficient  or  persevering  in  doing  good. 
His  benevolence  rests  on  delusion, — a  very  unsubstantial 
basis.  However,  we  ought  not  to  be  always  suspicious, — and 
above  all,  we  ought  never,  without  good  cause,  to  indicate 
suspicions.  We  want  the  art, — and  it  is  one  of  the  last  and 
most  difficult  of  the  intellectual  arts  to  be  acquired, — of  sus- 
pending judgment.  We  must  be  able  to  look  at  a  case  of 
alledged  sickness  and  suffering,  and  to  take  effectual,  though 
cautious  measures  for  its  relief,  while  all  the  time  we  keep  it 
a  question  whether  the  suffering  be  real  or  not.  We  do  not 
suppose  it  to  be  pretended, — nor  do  we  believe  it  to  be  real. 
We  have  no  evidence  on  one  side  or  the  other,  and  we  act 
very  cautiously  and  prudently,  though  kindly,  until  we  have 
valid  ground  for  a  decision. 

2.  Be  still  and  delicate  and  gentle  in  all  your  intercourse 
with  the  sick.  In  fact,  the  same  principle  in  this  respect 
applies  to  moral  and  physical  treatment.  That  attendant 
will  do  most  toward  promoting  recovery,  who  can  carry  the 
required  measures  into  the  most  regular  and  complete  effect, 
and  yet  in  the  easiest  and  gentlest  manner, — the  one  who 
can  open  and  shut  the  door  most  quietly,  and  manage  so  as 
to  have  occasion  least  frequently  to  do  it  at  all ;  the  one  who 
can  replenish  the  fire  so  as  least  to  attract  the  patient's  at- 
tention, and  give  the  fewest  directions  in  his  hearing,  and 


264 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Stillness  and  gentleness. 


have  the  medicine  or  the  drink  at  his  lips  at  the  proper  time, 
with  the  least  bustle  of  preparation  ;  the  one  who  walks 
softly,  whose  tones  are  gentle,  whose  touch  is  delicate,  and 
whose  countenance  exhibits  an  expression  of  cheerful  repose. 
Such  an  one  is  most  successful  in  soothing  and  quieting  the 
sensitive  susceptibilities  of  acute  disease,  and  facilitating  the 
sanative  influences  which  medical  skill,  conjoined  with  the 
spontaneous  efforts  of  nature,  have  diffused  through  the 
frame. 

"    iifc 


THE   SICK-CHAMBER. 


Now  it  is  not  the  sensorium  merely  that  must  be  defended 
against  the  rude  and  rough  approaches  which  it  could  safely 
sustain  in  health.  The  organs  of  the  mind  are  as  sensitive 
as  the  optic  or  the  auditory  nerves.  This  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  all  the  stillness  and  gentleness  of  the  attendant  must 
be  easy  and  natural,  or  it  is  unavailing.  Evident  and  labori- 
ous effort  to  walk  on  tiptoe,  or  to  renew  the  fuel  in  the  grate 


THE    SICK.  265 

Honesty.  Manoeuvring.  A  case  of  it 

in  silence,  or  to  suppress  the  directions  which  it  is  plain  are 
given,  will  disturb  the  mind  of  the  patient  even  more  perhaps 
than  the  sounds  which  they  avoid  would  disturb  the  ear. 
Now  we  may  learn  from  these  unquestionable  facts,  a  lesson 
in  regard  to  the  whole  manner  in  which  we  are  to  approach 
the  sick  with  the  moral  influences  which  we  attempt  to  bring 
before  them.  We  must  remember  that  even  the  moral 
powers  upon  which  we  propose  to  act  are  in  a  state  of  mor- 
bid sensitiveness ;  at  least  that  the  corporeal  and  mental 
faculties  through  which  we  propose  to  reach  them  are  so. 
Even  the  moral  powers  themselves  may  be  morbidly  sensi- 
tive, while  yet  they  may  be  in  a  state,  as  we  have  before 
maintained,  altogether  unfavorable  to  receiving  any  perma- 
nently salutary  impression.  We  must  therefore  be  most 
gentle,  and  delicate,  and  tender,  both  in  respect  to  the  aspects 
in  which  we  bring  religious  truth  before  the  patient,  and  in 
the  tone  and  manner  in  which  we  present  it.  And  we  must 
be  thus  delicate  and  gentle,  without  the  parade  of  an  effort 
to  be  so. 

3.  Be  frank  and  open  with  the  sick.  Gentleness  and 
delicacy  must  never  be  allowed  to  degenerate  into  indirect- 
ness and  artifice.  Be  open  and  frank,  and  honest  in  all 
that  you  do.  This  is  the  only  safe  principle,  in  fact,  in  all 
modes  of  religious  influence.  If  you  desire  to  pursue  a  course 
which  shall  do  the  least  good,  and  give  the  greatest  offense, 
your  wisest  way  is  to  adopt  a  system  of  manoeuvring  and 
hints  and  inuendoes.  When  we  attempt  to  convey  secret 
reproof  or  instruction,  by  the  language  of  indirectness  flt  in- 
sinuation, in  order  to  save  offense,  we  lose  our  labor,  if  we 
are  not  understood,  and  we  give  offense  in  the  most  awkward 
and  unpleasant  manner  possible,  if  we  are. 

For  example  a  man  has  lived  an  irregular  life,  sheltered 
by  his  belief  that  there  is  to  be  no  future  judgment.  He  is 
taken  sick  ;  he  feels  uneasy,  and  consents  that  his  wife  should 

M 


266  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  conversation.  The  prayer.  Effect?. 

send  for  you.  Now  we  will  suppose  that  you  think  it  best 
to  gain  access  to  him  by  stratagem.  A  very  common  plan 
would  be  something  like  this. 

You  find  in  your  little  pocket  Bible  some  strong  and 
decided  passage  which  asserts  a  future  retribution,  and  put 
a  mark  in  it  at  the  place.  Perhaps  you  adroitly  adjust  the 
mark  so  that  it  protrudes  but  a  little  from  the  lower  edges 
of  the  leaves,  so  as  to  be  observable  only  by  your  own  eye. 
Thus  provided,  you  make  your  appearance  at  his  bedside, 
and  after  a  little  preliminary  conversation,  you  propose  to 
read  to  him  a  few  verses  from  the  Bible,  and  open,  as  if  by 
accident,  to  the  chapter  which  you  have  privately  selected 
with  reference  to  his  own  case.  You  make  a  few  remarks 
on  other  verses  of  it,  but  read  very  distinctly  the  passage 
which  you  are  most  desirous  that  he  should  hear.  Then  you 
kneel  to  offer  prayer,  and,  perhaps,  to  carry  out  your  strata- 
gem, you  use  expressions  which  are  aimed  all  the  time  against 
his  errors,  while  you  profess  to  be  offering  supplications  to 
God.  After  some  farther  conversation,  in  which  you  cau- 
tiously abstain  from  all  direct  allusion  to  what  has  been, 
during  the  whole  time,  uppermost  in  your  mind,  you  leave 
your  patient,  thinking  that  you  have  managed  the  delicate 
case  very  adroitly. 

But  what  now  has  probably  been  the  effect  on  the  mind 
of  your  patient  1  Probably  his  thoughts  have  been  occupied 
all  the  time  with  the  question,  whether  your  selection  of  that 
chapter  was  accidental  or  designed,  and  his  speculations  upon 
this  -have  diverted  his  mind  from  every  serious  reflection  ; — 
if  indeed  he  has  not  seen  entirely  through  your  thin  disguise, 
and  is  not  secretly  hurt  and  displeased  at  your  pursuing  a 
policy  of  artifice  and  reserve  which  chills  and  discourages 
and  distresses  him.  The  truth  is,  this  spiritual  chicanery 
does  not  do.  Management,  artifice,  manoeuver  is  always  dan- 
gerous, whether  between  Christian  and  sinner,  teacher  and 


THE    SICK.  267 

Plain  dealing  safer.  Frankness.  Privileged  persons. 

pupil,  parent  and  child,  or  friend  and  friend.  The  chance 
that  any  person  will  understand  a  hint  or  covert  allusion  so 
far  as  to  take  its  force,  and  yet  stop  short  of  perceiving 
that  it  was  intended,  is  very  small.  So  that  such  mo4es 
of*  accomplishing  the  object,  greatly  diminish  the  hope  of 
doing  good,  and  vastly  increase  the  probability  of  doing  in- 
jury. 

On  the  other  hand,  frank  and  open-hearted  honesty  and 
plain-dealing,  scarcely  ever  give  offense,  provided  that  they 
are  under  the  control  of  real  benevolence,  and  are  not  dic- 
tatorial and  assuming.  In  the  case  of  the  sick  man  last 
described,  how  much  more  easily  and  pleasantly,  both  to 
yourself  and  to  him,  would  you  gain  access  to  his  heart,  by 
saying  at  once,  with  a  tone  of  frank  and  cheerful  kindness, 
"  I  have  understood,  sir,  that  you  have  not  been  accustomed 
to  believe  in  a  state  of  future  retribution  ;"  and  then  leading 
the  conversation  directly  and  openly  to  the  point  which  both 
you  and  he  have  most  prominently  in  view.  You  thus  open 
at  once  a  plain  and  honest  understanding  with  him.  He 
feels  that  he  is  treated  frankly  and  openly,  and  if  you  take 
the  friendly,  unassuming  attitude  before  him,  which  man 
ought  always  to  take  with  his  fellow-man,  you  will  find  that 
whether  you  succeed  or  fail  in  bringing  him  to  receive  the 
truth,  you  will  not  fail  in  securing  his  respect  and  attach- 
ment. 

In  fact,  plain,  honest,  open-hearted  men  are  noted  for 
giving  no  offense, — even  to  a  proverb.  They  are  called 
privileged  persons  ;  so  much  are  they  allowed  to  say  without 
awakening  resentment.  But  this  their  freedom  is  not  by  any 
means  their  own  personal  prerogative ;  it  is  the  universal 
privilege  of  frankness,  honesty,  and  unaffected  good- will, — 
all  the  world  over. 

4.  While  we  are  plain  and  direct  in  dealing  with  the 
sick,  we  must  remember  their  weakness,  and  not  exhaust 


268  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Quiet  for  the  sick. 

them  by  such  a  course  as  shall  force  them  to  active  effort  in 
our  intercourse  with  them.  So  far  as  intercourse  with  us 
is  concerned,  the  more  passive  we  leave  them,  the  better. 
Every  exertion,  mental  or  bodily,  fatigues  them.  Forming 
a  mental  conclusion  on  the  most  simple  point,  is  often  a  bur- 
den. If  the  question  is  only  whether  you  shall  bring  them 
one  beverage  or  another,  to  moisten  their  parched  lips,  both 
being  upon  the  table,  they  would  rather  generally  that  you 
would  decide,  than  put  the  question  to  them. 

The  act  of  considering,  fatigues, — the  simplest  question 
rouses  them  from  the  state  of  repose  ;  and  framing  an  answer 
to  any  inquiry  requires  an  effort  which  it  is  better  to  save 
them.  Thus  even  the  visit  of  a  friend,  who  barely  comes  to 
the  bedside,  and  speaks  scarcely  a  word,  produces  restlessness 
which  is  slow  to  subside  again.  The  simple  presence  of  the 
stranger  disturbs,  and  imposes  a  feeling  of  restraint  and  a 
necessity  of  attention  ; — a  sort  of  feeling  that  something 
ought  to  be  said,  while  yet  the  patient  has  nothing  to  say 
Even  to  look  at  a  sick  child,  makes  him  restless  in  his  cradle. 

And  yet  that  same  sick  child  would  perhaps  enjoy  your 
visit  if  you  would  pay  no  apparent  attention  to  him,  but  sit 
and  talk  a  short  time  with  his  mother.  In  that  case  his 
mind  follows  on  easily  and  gently  in  the  train  of  your  narra- 
tive or  dialogue,  without  being  aroused  to  the  necessity  of 
actively  participating  in  it.  The  mind  loves,  under  the 
feebleness  of  disease,  to  be  passive  and  still.  It  often  enjoys 
a  gentle  action  exerted  upon  it,  while  any  thing  that  arouses 
it  to  any  action  in  return,  destroys  its  rest,  and  makes  it 
suffer  uneasiness  and  fatigue. 

Now  there  are  many  cases  where  these  facts  must  be  kept 
fully  in  view,  in  efforts  to  promote  the  spiritual  benefit  of  the 
sick,  and  where  we  must  avoid  arousing  them  to  the  neces- 
sity of  active  intellectual  effort.  The  direct  question,  the 
train  of  argument,  interlocutory  conversation  which  keeps 


THE    SICK.  269 

Real  object  to  be  accomplished. 

the  mind  of  the  patient  intent  to  follow  you  and  to  frame  his 
replies, — all  these  fatigue  and  exhaust,  if  the  bodily  weak 
ness  is  extreme.  And  they  are  not  necessary,  as  will  be  seen 
at  once,  if  we  consider  what  the  nature  of  the  change  is 
which  we  wish  to  effect.  Whatever  may  be  the  character 
of  the  patient,  it  is  a  moral  change,  not  an  intellectual  one, 
which  we  desire  to  produce.  We  do  not  wish  to  cultivate 
his  intellect,  to  carry  him  forward  in  theology,  or  to  try  his 
strength  in  an  argument.  We  wish  simply  to  produce  a 
change  of  action  in  the  moral  movements  of  his  soul.  We 
wish  that  those  affections  which  now  vibrate  in  unison  with 
the  world  and  sin,  should  change  their  character  into  a 
unison  with  holiness  and  love.  It  is  indeed  evident  that  the 
truth  is  the  only  means  of  promoting  this  change  ;  or  rather, 
that  a  degree  of  truth  must  be  admitted  by  the  mind  or 
there  can  be  no  hope.  But  then  in  a  vast  majority  of  cases 
this  truth  is  known  and  admitted  beforehand.  In  fact,  far 
less  is  necessary  to  make  the  way  of  penitence  and  faith 
plain  and  open  before  the  feet  of  the  sinner,  than  is  generally 
supposed. 

Besides,  it  is  not  so  much  the  truth,  in  the  shape  of  prop- 
ositions which  are  to  be  maintained  by  argument,  and 
received  as  theological  theorems  forced  upon  the  mind  by 
the  severity  of  the  logic  which  sustains  them,  which  is  the 
means  of  conversion.  It  is  truth,  as  a  view,  a  moral  pic- 
ture, formed  by  the  spiritual  conception,  and  contemplated 
in  all  its  beauty  and  loveliness ;  it  is  this  that  touches  the 
heart,  and  is  the  means  of  awakening  new  spiritual  life  in 
the  soul.  It  is  such  truth  as  is  presented  to  the  mind,  not 
proved  to  it. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  a  labored  argument,  or  a  formal 
exhortation  to  the  sufferer,  on  the  duty  of  submitting  to  God, 
an  address  to  which  he  only  listens  with  painful,  wearisome 
effort, — and  which  only  leaves  him  restless  and  uneasy  when 


270  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Truth  to  be  presented  quietly. 

you  fipish  it,  because  he  has  nothing  to  reply,  you  take  from 
your  pocket  a  little  hymn-book,  and  say  to  him,  "  I  must 
not  talk  with  you.  I  know  you  are  too  feeble  to  talk,  but 
I  will  read  to  you  a  few  verses  of  a  hymn,  and  then  bid  you 
good-bye." 

You  then  read  as  follows  : 


"  'My  times  are  in  thy  hand,' 

My  God,  I  wish  them  there ; 
My  life,  my  friends,  my  soul  I  leave 
Entirely  to  thy  care. 

'  My  times  are  in  thy  hand,' 

Whatever  they  may  be, 
Pleasing  or  painful,  dark  or  bright, 

As  best  may  seem  to  thee. 

1  My  times  are  in  thy  hand,' 

Why  should  I  doubt  or  fear  I 
My  Father's  hand  will  never  cause 

Hia  child  a  needless  tear." 

Now  I  am  well  aware  that  a  cold,  hardened  lover  of  the 
world,  interested  in  religious  conversation  only  because  he 
is  alarmed  at  the  approach  of  death,  can  not  certainly  be 
expected  to  yield  himself  at  once  with  filial  submission  into 
the  hands  of  his  Maker,  merely  by  hearing  the  language  of 
submission  used  by  another, — even  if  the  reading  of  it  is  pre- 
faced by  words  of  kindness  and  sympathy  on  the  part  of  his 
visitor.  The  change  from  dislike,  and  fear,  and  shrinking, 
in  respect  to  God,  to  entire  self-devotion,  confidence  and  love, 
is  altogether  too  great,  and  also  altogether  too  far  beyond  all 
mere  human  instrumentality,  for  us  to  depend  upon  this. 
Yet  still,  no  person  who  has  observed  human  nature  with 
attention  can  doubt  that  the  state  of  mind  produced  by  such 
circumstances  as  those  here  described,  is  most  favorable  for 


THE    SICK.  271 

A  change  of  heart.  The  Savior.  John  Randolph.  Remorse. 

the  promotion  of  this  change.  Such  a  presentation  of  truth, 
furnishes  the  occasion  on  which  new  spiritual  life  is  awaken- 
ed. The  idea  of  filial  submission,  fairly  and  distinctly  brought 
before  the  mind,  takes  a  stronger  hold  upon  the  conscience 
than  the  most  conclusive  argument  for  submission.  The 
latter  calls  the  intellect  mainly  into  action ;  the  former  goes 
directly  to  the  heart. 

We  must  remember  that  it  is  not  alarm  or  agitation,  or 
the  giving  up  of  theological  errors,  or  perceiving  new  theo- 
logical truth,  which  can  prepare  the  soul  for  death  ; — but  a 
change  of  heart.  This  alarm  or  agitation,  or  this  change 
of  theological  opinion,  may  often  be,  especially  in  cases  of 
health,  the  antecedent  step  ;  and  the  labors  of  the  preacher 
may  often  be  directed  to  the  production  of  them.  But  they 
are  only  means  to  an  end,  and  there  are  some  peculiar  rea- 
sons why,  in  sickness,  the  attempt  to  produce  them  should 
be  avoided.  In  sickness  the  enemy  is  as  it  were  disarmed. 
He  lies  defenseless  and  helpless  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  our 
policy  is  to  come  to  him  in  the  gentlest  manner  possible,  out 
of  regard  to  his  physical  feebleness,  and  just  lay  before  him 
the  bread  of  life,  in  hopes  that  the  Holy  Spirit  will  dispose 
him  to  eat  of  it  and  live. 

I  need  scarcely  say  that  the  mercy  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ, 
is  the  main  truth  to  be  thus  presented  to  the  mind  of  the 
sick  or  dying  sinner.  The  need  of  a  Savior  is  felt  then, 
though  it  may  have  been  denied  and  disbelieved  before. 
John  Randolph,  when  he  gazed  upon  the  word  REMORSE, 
shown  to  him  at  his  direction,  upon  his  dying  bed,  and  re- 
peated it  with  such  an  emphasis  of  suffering,  and  then  turned 
to  an  atoning  Savior  for  a  refuge  from  the  terrifying  specter, 
acted  as  the  representative  of  thousands.  The  soul,  distress- 
ed, burdened,  struggling  in  vain  to  escape  its  load  by  mere 
confession,  finds  a  refuge  in  a  Mediator,  which  it  can  not 
elsewhere  find.  "God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  hia 


272  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

An  atonement.  The  hymn. 

only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  would  believe  in  him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life" — comes  home  like 
cool  water  to  the  thirsty  soul.  There  is  no  substitute  for  it 
Nothing  else  will  soothe  and  calm  the  troubled  spirit  under 
the  anguish  of  bitter  recollections  of  the  past,  and  dark  fore- 
bodings for  the  future. 

But  even  this  cup  of  comfort  and  peace  must  be  presented 
properly,  or  the  presentation  of  it  will  be  in  vain.  At  least, 
it  is  far  more  likely  to  be  received,  if  brought  forward  in 
accordance  with  the  directions  already  given.  You  may,  for 
instance,  here,  as  before,  simply  read  a  few  verses  of  a  hymn, 
in  the  patient's  hearing,  thus  : 

"  Heart-broken,  friendless,  poor,  cast  down, 

Where  shall  the  chief  of  sinners  fly, 
Almighty  Vengeance,  from  thy  frown  ? 
Eternal  Justice,  from  thine  eye  ? 

Lo,  through  the  gloom  of  guilty  fears, 

My  faith  discerns  a  dawn  of  grace ; 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness  appears 

In  Jesus'  reconciling  face. 

My  suffering,  slain,  and  risen  Lord, 

In  sore  distress  I  turn  to  thee  ; 
I  claim  acceptance  in  thy  word ; 

Jesus,  my  Savior,  ransom  me. 

'  Prostrate  before  the  mercy-seat, 

I  dare  not,  if  I  would,  despair ; 
None  ever  perished  at  thy  feet, 

And  I  will  lie  forever  there.' " 

Or  you  may  read  a  narrative,  or  you  may  address  direct 
conversation  on  the  subject,  or  read  and  comment  upon  a 
passage  of  Scripture ;  but  in  all  that  you  do,  keep  con- 
stantly in  mind  the  patient's  weakness,  and  the  state  of  hi  a 


THE   SICK.  273 

Questioning  the  patient. 


disease,  and  do  not  go  beyond  his  powers.  This  you  will 
easily  avoid,  if  you  leave  him  as  much  as  possible  in  a  pas- 
sive state,  so  far  as  intercourse  with  you  is  concerned.  Let 
him  lie  quiet  and  undisturbed,  so  that  the  whole  physical 
and  intellectual  man  may  be  as  completely  as  possible  in  a 
state  of  repose,  while  you  gain  a  gentle  access  directly  to  the 
soul,  and  hold  up  there  those  exhibitions  of  truth  which  may 
awaken  the  moral  powers  to  new  spiritual  life. 

6.  Never  attempt  to  ascertain  the  effect  of  your  instruc- 
tions to  the  sick.  Do  what  you  can,  but  leave  the  result  to 
be  unfolded  at  a  future  day.  The  reasons  for  this  direction, 
are  two.  First,  you  can  not  ascertain  if  you  try,  and 
secondly,  you  will  generally  do  injury  by  the  attempt. 

First,  you  can  not  ascertain  if  you  try.  The  indications 
of  piety,  and  also  of  impenitence,  upon  a  sick-bed,  are  both 
exceedingly  delusive.  So  much  depends  upon  character, 
temperament,  constitution,  habits  of  expression,  and  other 
individual  peculiarities,  that  the  most  dissimilar  appearances 
may  be  exhibited  in  cases  where  the  spiritual  state  is  sub- 
stantially the  same.  In  one  case,  the  heart  is  really  changed, 
but  the  subject  of  the  change  dares  not  believe  it,  and  still 
less  dares  he  express  any  hope  of  it ;  and  his  darkness  and 
despondency  would  be  mistaken,  almost  universally,  for  com- 
tinued  impenitence  and  insubmission.  Another,  deceived  by 
the  illusions  which  we  have  already  explained,  finds  a  false 
peace,  which,  the  more  baseless  it  is,  the  more  confidently  he 
expresses  it ;  and  Christians  very  rarely  question  the  sincerity 
of  professions,  unless  they  are  compelled  to  do  it  by  gross  in- 
consistency of  conduct. 

These  difficulties  exist,  it  is  true,  in  other  cases  besides 
those  of  sickness,  and  they  should  teach  us  to  be  less  eager 
to  ascertain  the  immediate  results  of  our  efforts  than  we  usu- 
ally are ;  and  less  credulous  in  trusting  to  them.  But  they 
apply  with  tenfold  force  to  sickness,  whether  it  be  in  the  suf- 

M* 


274  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Difficulty  of  judging. 

ferings  of  acute  disease,  or  in  the  slow  lingerings  of  decline. 
The  world  is  shut  out,  and  the  ordinary  test, — the  only  safe 
one, — the  fruit,  is  here  excluded. 

Then,  secondly,  we  do  injury  hy  endeavoring  to  ascertain 
what  effects  are  produced.  We  harass  and  fatigue  the  pa- 
tient by  pressing  him  to  give  MS  an  answer  to  the  claims 
which  we  present  to  him.  If  we  lay  truth  and  duty  before 
him,  and,  as  it  were,  leave  it  there,  his  health  will  suffer  far 
less,  than  if  we  follow  it  with  a  sort  of  inquisition  into  its 
effects.  To  bear  an  examination  is  very  hard  work,  when 
the  subject  is  strong  and  well, — it  is  exhausting  and  irritating, 
to  the  last  degree,  in  sickness,  especially  when  the  patient 
would  hardly  know  how  to  express  his  feelings,  even  if 
they  were  distinctly  developed  and  mature,  and  he  is,  in 
fact,  only  beginning  to  experience  new  states  of  mind  which 
he  scarcely  understands  himself,  and  certainly  can  not  de- 
scribe. 

It  is  far  better,  therefore,  both  for  ourselves,  and  for  the 
soul  which  we  wish  to  save,  that  we  should  not  make  much 
effort  to  remove  the  vail  which  hangs  over  its  future  condi- 
tion. We  shall  go  on  with  our  work  in  a  more  humble 
manner,  and  in  a  better  spirit,  if  we  feel  that  the  duty  only 
is  ours,  and  the  result  of  it,  God's  ;  and  the  sinner  who  has 
postponed  repentance  till  summoned  to  his  sick-chamber,  will 
be  most  sure  of  being  safe  at  last,  if  he  does  not  think  him- 
self safe  too  soon.  Some  degree  of  uncertainty  in  respect  to 
the  genuineness  of  a  change  which  has  been  produced  under 
such  circumstances,  will  be  the  best  for  him  whether  he  is 
to  live  or  die. 

7.  Do  not  confidently  expect  much  good  effect.  This, 
however,  ought  not  to  be  said  in  an  unqualified  manner,  for 
in  all  our  efforts,  a  degree  of  expectation  and  hope  is  justly 
warranted,  both  by  the  word  of  God  and  by  common  obser- 
vation,— and  this  degree  we  ought  to  entertain  as  a  means 


THE    SICK.  275 

Faint  hope  of  success.  The  sick  Christian. 

of  enabling  us  to  work  with  ease  and  pleasure,  and  with  a 
prospect  of  success.  But  in  our  intercourse  with  the  sick,  we 
must  not  so  depend  upon  leading  them  to  repentance  at  the 
late  hour  to  which  they  have  postponed  their  duty,  as  to  be 
disappointed  and  discouraged  if  we  see  no  decided  evidence 
of  a  change.  Preparation  for  death  in  sickness  is  made  far 
less  frequently  than  is  generally  supposed.  It  is  surprising 
that  it  is  ever  made  at  all.  But  the  faintest  hope  that  an 
immortal  soul  may  be  saved,  justifies  the  most  earnest  efforts 
and  the  most  heartfelt  prayer.  This  effort  must  by  all  means 
be  made,  but  it  would  be  well  for  mankind  if  they  could,  by 
any  means,  be  undeceived  about  the  nature  of  the  spiritual 
influences  which  will  surround  them  in  their  dying  hours. 
In  each  particular  instance  that  occurs,  our  sympathy  with  sur- 
viving friends  leads  us  to  hope  against  hope,  and  to  encourage 
expectations  which  do  not  indeed  affect  the  dead,  but  which 
raise  a  false  light  to  lure  and  destroy  the  living.  We  ought 
to  do  all  in  our  power  to  make  known  the  melancholy  truth, 
— sad,  but  unquestionable, — that  when  the  last  hours  of  life 
come,  it  is  generally  too  late  to  make  preparation,  if  it  has 
been  delayed,  and  too  late  even  to  finish  it,  if  it  has  only  been 
begun.  It  is  too  late,  not  because  repentance  would  not 
even  then  be  availing,  but  because  it  is  the  tendency  of  that 
last  sad  occasion,  if  it  disturbs  the  stupor  of  sin  at  all,  not 
to  bring  penitence,  but  only  agitation,  anxiety,  and  alarm. 

8.  The  preceding  heads  have  related  chiefly  to  those  whom 
the  invasion  of  sickness,  or  the  approach  of  death,  has  found 
unprepared.  We  are  often,  however,  called  to  the  bedside 
of  the  dying  Christian,  whose  life  has  exhibited  evidence  of 
his  reconciliation  with  God.  Our  duty  with  these,  is  to 
go  on  with  them  as  far  as  we  may,  into  the  dark  valley,  to 
cheer,  and  sustain,  and  help  them.  God  has  himself  prom- 
ised to  be  their  stay  and  support,  and  the  means  which  he 
uses  to  accomplish  this  promise,  are  often,  to  a  great  extent, 


276  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

How  decline. 

the  kindness  and  sympathy  of  a  Christian  friend.  These 
cases  are,  in  some  important  respects,  different  from  the  pre- 
ceding. In  those,  the  work  of  life  has  heen  neglected,  and  is 
crowded  into  the  last  melancholy  hours  :  in  these,  that  work 
is  done  already,  and  nothing  remains  for  the  subject  of  it  but 
to  go  through  the  last  sickness  and  suffering  to  the  home  an- 
ticipated and  provided  for.  In  the  other  case,  therefore, 
though  there  was  need  of  the  greatest  delicacy  and  quiet  in 
the  mode  of  calling  the  patient's  attention  to  what  was  to  be 
done,  there  was  yet  a  great  deal  to  do.  In  the  latter,  we 
have  only  to  smooth  the  path  of  the  sufferer,  and  speak  to 
him  in  tones  of  sympathy  and  affection,  and  walk  along  by 
his  side. 

Whatever  influence  the  degree  of  holiness  which  the 
Christian  may  have  attained  to  during  his  life,  may  have 
upon  his  happiness  and  glory  in  eternity,  we  have  very  little 
evidence  that  any  progress  which  he  can  make  in  a  few  days 
of  severe  sickness  will  materially  affect  it.  Our  wisest  course, 
therefore,  in  such  a  case,  is,  to  bring  occasionally  before  the 
mind,  as  our  interviews  may  give  us  opportunity,  such  pre- 
sentations of  divine  truth  as  may  reawaken  holy  feeling,  and 
cheer  and  sustain  the  heart.  One  of  David's  short  and  simple 
petitions,  or  a  scriptural  promise,  or  a  verse  or  two  of  a  hymn, 
not  didactic,  but  expressive  of  feeling,  or  a  few  words  in  a 
gentle  tone,  so  framed  as  not  to  admit  of  a  reply,  will  be  all, 
in  many  cases,  that  the  patient  can  bear.  I  speak  now  of 
cases  of  somewhat  severe  disease.  In  these,  if  we  have  good 
evidence  that  the  preparation  for  death  is  really  made, — we 
must,  as  much  as  possible  leave  the  sufferer  in  repose.  We 
must  bring  religious  truth  before  the  mind  chiefly  to 
strengthen  and  sustain  it,  and  to  keep  there  an  assurance  of 
the  unfailing  kindness  and  continued  presence  of  the  Savior, 
who  has  promised  to  love  and  to  keep  his  children  to  the  end. 

We  err  often  in  such  cases,  by  endeavoring  to  draw  from 


THE    SICK.  277 

Expressions  of  piety  by  the  rick. 

the  dying  Christian,  the  assurances  of  his  unwavering  hope, 
or  his  last  testimony  to  the  reality  of  religion.  We  do  this 
partly  to  procure  subjects  of  pleasant  recollection  for  friends, 
and  partly  to  furnish  new  and  corroborating  evidence  to  the 
truth  of  Christianity.  But  it  is  wrong  to  make  any  such 
efforts.  We  may  safely  listen  to  and  receive  whatever  the 
patient  may  spontaneously  say ;  in  fact,  some  of  the  most 
striking  and  most  powerful  evidences  of  the  power  of  re- 
ligion have  been  furnished  by  the  testimony  which  has  been 
recorded  from  the  lips  of  the  dying.  But  if  it  is  extorted,  or 
even  drawn  out — though  in  the  most  delicate  manner,  it  is 
of  little  worth. 

Besides,  it  is  sometimes  even  cruel  to  attempt  to  do  this. 
It  is  painful  and  fatiguing  in  the  extreme  for  the  patient  to 
be  examined, — or  to  be  drawn  into  a  conversation  so  con- 
ducted as  to  have  all  the  inquisitorial  effects  of  an  exami- 
nation. Then  the  results,  in  such  a  case,  are  no  safe  cri- 
terion. The  mind  is  so  extensively  and  mysteriously  affected 
by  the  complicated  influences  of  disease,  and  nervous  exhila- 
ration or  depression  will  so  mingle  with,  and  modify  the  re- 
ligious feelings  and  hopes,  that  the  language  and  expressions 
of  sickness  can  be,  in  many  cases,  only  faintly  relied  upon  as 
real  evidences  of  the  spiritual  state. 

In  cases  of  long-continued  and  lingering  disease,  a  greater 
latitude  of  religious  conversation  and  intercourse  with  a 
Christian  patient,  may  be  allowed  than  would  be  useful  in  a 
rapid  and  fatal  disorder.  In  fact,  in  such  a  case,  the  patient 
may,  in  the  course  of  several  months  of  slow  decline,  make  a 
very  considerable  progress  in  piety  ;  and  the  Christian  visitor 
may  have  such  a  progress  in  mind,  and  act  with  special  ref- 
erence to  it  in  all  his  intercourse.  In  this  case,  however, 
there  is  one  great  danger  ;  especially  where  the  subject  is 
young.  The  visitor  insensibly  allows  the  object  before  his 
mind  to  change  from  a  simple  desire  to  promote  the  spiritual 


278  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Professions.  Authority  of  physician. 

progress  of  his  charge,  into  a  desire  to  gratify  himself  with 
the  indications  of  this  progress.  His  conversations  gradually 
assume  a  tendency  to  elicit  expressions  of  piety,  rather  than 
to  promote  the  silent  progress  of  piety  within.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  after  a  time,  some  action  or  expression  on  the 
part  of  the  patient  betrays  lurking  vanity  or  spiritual  pride, 
which  astonishes  and  grieves  his  visitor,  and  he  opens  his 
eyes  to  the  sad  fact,  that  he  has  been  all  the  time  cherishing 
affectation  and  love  of  display.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  has 
been  all  affectation  and  love  of  display.  These  feelings  have 
insensibly  and  slowly  mingled  with,  and  poisoned  the  piety 
which  existed  at  first,  and  it  is  these  which  the  deceived 
visitor  has  been,  with  far  different  intentions,  steadily  de- 
veloping. 

As  the  human  heart  is,  we  can  not  be  too  cautious,  in  all 
cases  and  under  all  circumstances,  how  we  encourage  or 
appear  to  be  pleased  with  professions  of  any  sort.  The  step 
is  so  short  and  so  easily  taken,  from  a  profession  springing 
spontaneously  and  honestly  out  of  the  feeling  it  represents,  to 
a  profession  arising  from  a  self-complacency  in  the  credit 
of  that  feeling,  that  the  latter  comes  very  readily  after 
the  former.  And  this  consideration  mingles  with  those 
others  which  have  been  already  adduced,  to  urge  us  to  be 
content  when  we  have  faithfully  endeavored  to  do  the  good, 
without  being  too  solicitous  to  ascertain  exactly  whether  the 
good  is  done. 

9.  We  close  this  series  of  directions  with  one  which  might 
very  properly  have  been  placed  at  the  commencement  of  it. 
In  all  our  intercourse  with  the  sick,  we  must  acknowledge  and 
submit  to  the  authority  of  the  physician  and  the  friends,  in 
respect  to  the  extent  to  which  we  may  go  in  regard  to  a 
spiritual  influence  upon  them.  We  ought  not  to  violate  by 
stealth  or  otherwise,  the  wishes  of  those  upon  whom  Provi- 
dence has  placed  the  responsibility,  and  to  whom  he  has 


THE    SICK.  279 

Limits  and  restrictions. 


given  the  control.  I  will  not  say  that  there  may  not  be 
some  rare  exceptions,  but  certainly  no  one  can  doubt  that 
where  parental  authority,  in  a  case  fairly  within  parental 
jurisdiction,  or  the  orders  of  a  physician  who  has  the  respon- 
sibility of  life  and  death  resting  upon  him,  rise  up  like  a  wall 
in  our  way,  there  Providence  does  not  intend  that  we  shall 
go.  Whatever  good  we  might  fancy  that  we  could  do  by 
violating  these  sacred  powers,  we  have  no  right  to  violate 
them.  In  fact  we  should  do  no  good  to  violate  them,  for  we 
should  create  a  suspicion  and  jealousy  which  would  close  many 
more  doors  than  we  should  thus  unjustifiably  open.  It  is 
well  for  the  spiritual  friend  of  the  patient  to  have  an  under- 
standing with  the  physician,  and  obtain  some  knowledge  of 
the  nature  of  the  disease,  especially  in  respect  to  its  influence 
upon  the  mind  ;  and  then  endeavor  to  fall  in  with  the  plan 
of  cure  pursued,  at  least  to  do  nothing  to  interfere  with,  or 
thwart  it.  We  are  bound  to  do  this,  even  in  a  religious 
point  of  view,  for  the  hope  of  salvation  in  the  case  of  a  sick 
sinner,  lies  generally  more  in  a  hope  of  recovery,  than  in  any 
reasonable  expectation  of  benefit  from  spiritual  instructions 
given  upon  a  dying  bed.  Besides,  God  has  surrounded  us  in 
every  direction,  in  this  world,  with  limits  and' restrictions  in 
our  efforts  to  do  good.  We  must  keep  ourselves  fairly  within 
these  limits.  What  we  can  not  do  without  trespassing  be- 
yond them,  we  must  be  willing  to  leave  undone.  Thus,  in 
order  to  accomplish  our  benevolent  plans,  we  must  never 
violate  the  rights  of  conscience,  or  of  property,  or  invade  the 
just  and  proper  liberty  to  which  every  man  has  an  inde- 
feasible title,  or  be  guilty  of  artifice  or  of  unworthy  subter- 
fuge, or  infringe  upon  any  sacred  relations  which  God  has 
established,  and  which  he  justly  requires  us  to  respect.  We 
must  go  forward  to  our  work,  not  so  anxious  to  effect  our 
object,  as  to  do  any  thing  in  any  degree  wrong  in  the  attempt 
to  effect  it.  We  must  conform  most  strictly  and  invariably 


280  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Conclusion. 

to  all  those  principles  which  we  are  endeavoring  to  promote, 
and  never  transgress  them  ourselves,  in  our  eagerness  to 
extend  them  to  others.  In  a  word,  we  must  be  upright, 
pure,  honest,  open  and  incorruptible  in  all  we  do.  What 
we  can  not  effect  in  this  way,  we  must  suppose  that  God 
does  not  intend  that  we  shall  effect  at  all, — always  remem- 
bering that  a  pure  and  an  unspotted  example  of  piety,  is  more 
efficacious  in  promoting  the  spread  of  the  gospel,  than  any 
measures  whatever  which  we  have  to  carry  into  effect  by 
the  sacrifice  of  principle. 


CHILDREN.  281 


A  supposition.  The  infanta. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

• 

CHILDREN. 

"Ills  not  the  will  of  your  Father  in  heaven  that  one  of  these  little  ones  should 
perish." 

SUPPOSE  that  a  hundred  healthy  infants,  each  a  few 
weeks  old,  were  taken  from  the  city  of  Constantinople, 
and  arranged  under  the  care  of  nurses,  in  a  suite  of  apart- 
ments, in  some  public  hospital.  In  an  adjoining  range  of 
rooms,  let  another  hundred,  taken  from  the  most  virtuous 
families  in  Scotland,  be  placed.  Take  another  hundred  from 
the  haunts  of  smugglers,  or  of  the  pirates  which  infest  the 
West  India  Seas  ;  another  from  the  high  nobility  of  the 
families  of  England,  and  another  from  the  lowest  and  most 
degraded  haunts  of  vice,  in  the  faubourg  St.  Antoine,  in 
Paris.  Now,  if  such  an  infantile  representation  were  made, 
of  some  of  the  most  marked  and  most  dissimilar  of  the 
classes,  into  which  the  Caucasian  race  has  been  divided 
by  the  progress  of  time,  and  the  doors  of  the  various  apart- 
ment thrown  open, — the  question  is,  whether  the  most 
minute  and  thorough  scrutiny  could  distinguish  between 
the  classes,  and  assign  each  to  its  origin.  They  are  to  be 
under  one  common  system  of  arrangement  and  attendance, 
— and  we  have  supposed  all  the  subjects  to  be  healthy,  in 
order  to  cut  off  grounds  of  distinction,  which  an  intelligent 
physician  might  observe  in  hereditary  tendencies  to  disease. 
Under  these  circumstances,  if  the  several  collections  be  sub- 
jected to  the  most  thorough  examination,  would  any  inge- 


282  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Effect  of  education. 

nuity  or  science  be  able  to  establish  a  distinction  between 
them  ?  Probably  not.  There  would  be  the  same  forms  and 
the  same  color  ; — the  same  instincts, — the  same  cries.  The 
cradles  which  would  lull  the  inmates  of  one  apartment 
to  repose,  would  be  equally  lulling  to  the  others, — and  the 
same  bright  objects,  or  distinct  sounds,  which  would  awaken 
the  senses,  and  give  the  first  gentle  stimulus  to  mind,  in  one 
case,  would  do  the  same  in  all.  Thus  inspection  alone  of 
these  specimens  would  not  enable  us  to  label  them  ;  and  if 
they  were  to  remain  for  months,  or  even  for  years  under  our 
care,  for  concealed  and  embryo  differences  to  be  developed, 
we  should  probably  wait  in  vain. 

But,  instead  of  thus  waiting,  let  us  suppose  that  the  five 
hundred  children  are  dismissed,  each  to  its  mother  and  its 
home,  and  that  they  all  pass  through  the  years  of  childhood 
and  youth,  exposed  to  the  various  influences  which  surround 
them  in  the  dwellings  and  neighborhoods  to  which  they 
respectively  belong  ; — among  the  bazars  and  mosques  of  the 
Turkish  city,  or  the  glens  and  hillsides  of  Scotland,  or  in  the 
home  of  noise  and  violence,  whether  forecastle  or  hut,  of 
the  bucaniers, — or  in  the  nurseries  and  drawing-rooms  of 
Grosvenor  Square,  or  the  dark  crowded  alleys  of  the  Parisian 
faubourg.  Distribute  them  thus  to  the  places  to  which  they 
respectively  belong,  and  leave  them  there,  till  the  lapse  of 
time  has  brought  them  to  maturity ; — then  bring  them  all 
together,  for  examination  again. 

How  widely  will  they  be  found  to  have  separated  now ! 
Though  they  commenced  life  alike  and  together,  their  paths 
began  at  once  to  diverge,  and  now,  when  we  compare  them, 
how  totally  dissimilar.  Contrast  the  Turk  with  the  Scot, — 
the  hardened  pirate,  with  the  effeminate  nobleman.  Examine 
their  characters  thoroughly, — their  feelings,  their  opinions, 
their  principles  of  conduct,  their  plans  of  life,  their  pursuits, 
their  hopes,  their  fears.  Almost  every  thing  is  dissimilar 


CHILDREN.  283 


Education  of  circumstances. 


There  is,  indeed,  a  common  humanity  in  all,  but  every 
thing  not  essential  to  the  very  nature  of  man  is  changed ; 
and  characters  are  formed,  so  totally  dissimilar,  that  we 
might  almost  doubt  the  identity  of  the  species. 

There  is  another  thing  to  be  observed,  too, — that  every 
individual  of  each  class,  with  scarcely  a  single  exception, 
goes  with  his  class,  and  forms  a  character  true  to  the  influ- 
ences which  have  operated  upon  him  in  his  own  home.  You 
will  look  in  vain  for  a  single  example  of  luxurious  effemi- 
nacy among  the  pirates'  sons,  or  of  virtuous  principle  among 
children  brought  up  in  a  community  of  thieves.  You  can 
find  cases  enough  of  this  kind,  it  is  true,  in  works  of  fiction, 
but  few  in  real  life ; — and  those  few  are  not  real  exceptions. 
They  are  accounted  for  by  the  mixed  influences,  which,  on 
account  of  some  peculiar  circumstances,  bear  upon  some  in- 
dividuals, and  modify  the  character  which  they  might  have 
been  expected  to  form.  The  Turkish  children  are  all  Turks, 
unless  there  may  be  one  here  and  there,  among  a  million, 
whose  course  may  have  been  deflected  a  little  by  some  ex- 
traordinary circumstances  in  his  history.  So  the  Parisian 
children  all  become  Frenchmen  in  their  feelings  and  opinions, 
and  principles  of  action  ; — the  children  of  nobles  all  become 
aristocratic  ;  and  those  who  in  London  or  Paris  find  their 
homes  in  the  crowded  quarters  of  vice, — if  they  are  brought 
up  thieves  and  beggars,  thieves  and  beggars  they  will  live. 

And  yet  it  is  not  education,  in  the  common  sense  of  that 
term,  which  produces  these  effects  upon  human  character ; 
that  is,  they  are  not  produced  by  the  influence  of  formal 
efforts,  on  the  part  of  parents  and  friends,  to  instruct  the 
young,  and  to  train  them  up  to  walk  in  their  own  footsteps. 
In  respect  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  of  accom- 
plishments, great  effort  would  be  made  to  give  formal  in- 
struction by  some  of  the  classes  enumerated  above ;  but  in 
regard  to  almost  all  that  relates  to  the  formation  of  character, 


284  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Instructions  not  exclusively  for  parents. 

— principles  of  action, — the  sentiments  and  the  feelings,— 
the  work  is  done  by  the  thousand  nameless  influences'  which 
surround  every  child,  and  which  constitute  the  moral  atmos- 
phere in  which  he  spends  his  youthful  years. 

Now  this  kind  of  moral  atmosphere,  which  is  so  effectual 
in  determining  the  character  which  the  children  who  grow 
up  in  the  midst  of  it  form,  every  one  does  a  great  deal  to 
produce, — altogether  more  than  he  would  at  first  suppose 
possible.  So  that  our  influence  upon  the  young,  is  an  ex- 
ceedingly important  department  of  our  opportunity  for  doing 
good.  In  fact,  God  has  assigned  us  a  double  duty  to  perform, 
while  we  remain  here.  First,  to  use  the  world  well,  while 
we  continue  in  it ;  and,  secondly,  to  prepare  a  generation  to 
receive  the  trust,  when  we  shall  pass  away  from  the  scene. 
We  are  not  only  to  occupy  well  ourselves,  but  to  train  up 
and  qualify  our  successors. 

Now  the  reader  may  perhaps  think  that  these  remarks, 
and  what  remains  in  this  chapter,  on  the  subject  of  the 
young,  must  be  intended  principally  for  parents.  Far  from 
it ;  for  there  are  many  relations  in  life  which  give  us  a  very 
free  access  to  the  young,  and  an  influence  over  them  as  an 
inevitable  result.  One  person  is  a  parent,  and  consequently 
exercises  a  very  controlling  influence  over  the  whole  char- 
acter and  future  prospects  of  his  children.  Another  is  a 
brother  or  sister,  and  enjoys  opportunities  of  influence,  almost 
as  great  as  those  of  a  father  or  mother.  Another,  who  lives, 
perhaps,  in  a  family  where  there  are  no  children,  is  intimate 
in  the  families  of  neighbors  or  friends,  and  is  thus  thrown 
into  frequent  intercourse  for  years,  with  cousins  and  nephews 
and  nieces,  who  are  all  the  time  catching  his  spirit  and  im- 
bibing his  principles.  Uncle  and  aunt  in  such  a  case  are 
very  apt  to  imagine  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  keep 
in  the  good  graces  of  their  little  relatives  by  an  occasional 
picture-book  or  sugar  toy.  They  forget  the  vast  effects 


CHILDREN.  285 


Influence  of  relatives.  The  worsted  pocket  book. 

which  ten  years  of  almost  constant  and  yet  unguarded  inter- 
course must  have, — and  still  more,  the  very  powerful  influ- 
ence which  it  might  have,  in  giving  a  right  moral  turn  to 
the  sentiments  and  the  feelings,  and  the  whole  cast  of  char- 
acter, if  the  opportunity  were  properly  improved.  In  fact, 
if  we  look  back  to  our  own  early  days,  we  shall  remember 
in  how  many  instances  our  opinions  and  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings, and  perhaps  our  whole  cast  of  character,  received  a 
turn  from  the  influence  of  an  uncle,  or  an  aunt,  or  a  neigh- 
bor. In  my  father's  family  there  was  an  antique  pocket- 
book,  of  party-colored  worsted, — the  admiration  of  our  childish 
eyes, — which  contained  a  collection  of  the  college  composi- 
tions, and  journals,  and  letters,  of  an  amiable  uncle,  who 
died  so  early  that  his  nephews  could  never  know  him,  except 
through  these  remains.  And  many  a  rainy  day,  and  many  a 
winter  evening,  was  this  pocket-book  explored,  as  a  mine  of 
instruction  and  enjoyment.  Moral  principle  was  awakened 
and  cultivated  by  the  sentiments  of  an  essay,  and  literary 
interest  or  ambition  aroused  by  the  spirit  of  a  forensic  discus- 
sion, or  by  the  various  memorials  of  a  college  life  ;  and  feel- 
ings of  kindness  and  good- will  were  cherished  by  the  amiable 
and  gentle  spirit  which  were  breathed  in  the  letters  or  the 
journal.  The  whole  undoubtedly  exerted  a  vast  influence, 
in  giving  form  to  the  character  and  sentiments  of  the  boys 
who  had  access  to  it ;  and  yet  how  vastly  greater  would 
have  been  the  influence  of  a  constant  intercourse  with  the 
living  man. 

Or,  if  the  reader  has  neither  of  the  above  means  of  influ- 
ence, he  is  or  may  be,  perhaps,  a  Sabbath-school  teacher,  or 
he  may  have  boys  in  his  employment,  or  he  may,  in  his 
business,  have  frequent  intercourse  with  many  whtf  come  to 
him  as  messengers,  or  who  stand  by,  unnoticed  but  very 
attentive  listeners  to  his  directions  or  conversation.  We 
thus,  in  a  thousand  other  ways,  have  a  connection  with  the 


286  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Plan  of  the  chapter.  Characteristics  of  childhood. 

young,  which,  though  we  may  consider  it  slight,  yet  exerts  a 
powerful  influence  in  impressing  our  own  characters  upon 
the  plastic  material  which  it  reaches.  Hence,  all  who  wish 
to  do  good  should  understand  something  of  the  character  and 
susceptibilities  of  children,  and  make  it  a  part  of  their  con- 
stant care  to  exert  as  happy  and  as  salutary  an  influence 
upon  them,  as  they  can.  I  proceed  to  give  some  practical 
directions  by  which  this  must  be  done.  They  are  not  intend- 
ed particularly  for  parents,  but  for  all  who  have  any  inter- 
course with  the  young.  They  who  have  made  this  subject 
a  particular  subject  of  reflection,  will  find  nothing  new  in 
these  suggestions.  The  principles  here  advanced  are  those 
which  common  sense,  and  the  results  of  common  observation 
establish ; — they  are  presented  here,  not  as  new  discoveries, 
but  as  old  and  obvious  truths,  to  be  kept  in  mind  by  those 
who  would  accomplish  the  most  extensive  and  the  most 
unmixed  good,  in  this  part  of  the  widely  extended  vineyard 
of  God. 

The  plan  of  discussion  which  we  shall  pursue  will  be, 

I.  To  consider  some  of  the  prominent  characteristics  of 
childhood,  in  accordance  with  which,  an  influence  over  the 
young,  can  alone  be  secured. 

II.  Deduce  from  them  some  general  rules. 

I.    PROMINENT    CHARACTERISTICS    OP    CHILDHOOD. 

To  understand  the  course  which  must  be  taken,  in  order 
to  secure  an  influence  over  children,  we  must  first  understand 
the  leading  principles  and  characteristics  of  childhood, — for 
it  is  these  which  we  are  to  act  upon.  In  a  summary  ex- 
pression of  them,  we  may  say  that  to  exercise  upon  every 
object  their  dawning  faculties,  both  of  body  and  mind, — to 
learn  all  that  they  can  about  the  world  into  which  they  are 
ushered,  presenting,  as  it  does,  so  strange  and  imposing  a 
spectacle  to  their  senses, — to  love  those  who  sympathize  with 


CHILDREN.  287 


Case.  Sensation  of  whiteness. 

and  aid  them  in  these  objects, — and  to  catch  the  spirit,  and 
imitate  the  actions  of  those  whom  they  thus  love, — these,  we 
should  say,  are  the  great  leading  principles,  hy  which  the 
moral  and  intellectual  nature  of  childhood  is  governed. 
These  we  shall  consider  in  detail. 

1.  To  exercise  their  opening  faculties. 

The  infant's  first  pleasure  of  this  kind  is  the  employment 
of  the  senses,  beginning  with  gazing  at  the  fire,  .or  listening 
with  quiet  pleasure  to  the  sound  of  his  mother's  voice  sing- 
ing in  his  ear.  While  the  little  being  just  ushered  into  ex- 
istence, lies  still  in  his  cradle,  gazing  upon  the  wall,  or  with 
his  chin  upon  his  nurse's  shoulder,  listens  almost  breathlessly 
to  the  song  which  is  lulling  him  to  sleep,  how  often  does  the 
mother  say,  "  I  should  like  to  know  exactly  what  he  is  think- 
ing of, — what  state  of  mind  he  is  in."  It  is  not  very  difficult, 
probably,  to  tell.  Imagine  yourself  in  his  situation  ;  look 
up  upon  the  white  wall,  and  banish  all  thought  and  reflec- 
tion, as  far  as  you  can, — or  rather  conceive  of  yourself  as 
having  done  it  entirely,  so  as  in  imagination  to  arrest  all 
operations  of  the  mind,  and  retain  nothing  but  vision.  Let 
the  light  come  in  to  the  eye,  and  produce  the  sensation  of 
whiteness,  and  nothing  more.  Let  it  awaken  no  thought,  no 
reflection,  no  inquiry.  Imagine  yourself  never  to  have  seen 
any  white  before,  so  as  to  make  the  impression  a  novel  one, 
— and  also  imagine  yourself  never  to  have  seen  any  thing, 
or  heard  any  thing,  before,  so  as  to  cut  off  all  ground  for 
wonder  or  surprise.  In  a  word,  conceive  of  a  mind,  in  the 
state  of  simple  sensation,  with  none  of  those  thousand  feel- 
ings and  thoughts,  which  sensation  awakens  in  the  spirit  that 
is  mature,  and  you  have  probably  the  exact  state  of  the  infan- 
tile intellect,  when  the  first  avenues  are  opened  by  which  the 
external  world  is  brought  to  act  upon  its  embryo  mind.  Can 
it  be  surprising,  then,  under  such  circumstances,  that  even 
mere  sensation  should  be  pleaaure  ? 


288 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Mental  processes. 


Pleasure  ol  action. 


As  the  child  advances  through  the  first  months  of  exist- 
ence, the  mental  pajt  of  the  processes  which  the  sensations 
awaken  are  more  and  more  developed  ;  for  we  are  not  to 
consider  the  powers  of  mind  as  called  at  once  into  existence, 
complete  and  independent  at  the  beginning,  and  then  joined 
to  the  corporeal  frame, — but  as  gradually  developed  in  the 
progress  of  years,  and  that  too,  in  a  great  measure,  through 
the  instrumentality  of  the  senses.  After  some  months  have 
passed  away,  the  impressions  from  without  penetrate,  as  it 
were,  farther  within,  and  awaken  new  susceptibilities  which 
gradually  develop  themselves.  Now  each  new  faculty  is  a 
new  possession,  and  the  simple  exercise  of  it,  without  end  or 
aim,  is  and  must  be  a  great  positive  pleasure.  First  comes 

the  power  to  walk. 
We  are  always  sur- 
prised at  seeing  how 
much  delight  the  child, 
when  he  first  finds  that 
he  has  strength  and 
steadiness  to  go  upright 
across  the  room,  expe- 
riences in  going  across 
again  and  again — from 
table  to  table,  and  from 
chair  to  sofa,  as  long 
as  his  strength  remains. 
But  why  should  we  be 
surprised  at  it  ?  Sup- 
pose the  inhabitants  of 
any  town  should  find 

themselves  suddenly  possessed  of  the  power  of  flying ; — 
we  should  find  them  for  hours  and  days  filling  the  air 
flitting  from  tree  to  tree,  and  from  house  top  to  steeple, 
with  no  end  or  aim  but  the  pleasure  enjoyed  in  the 


FIRST    STEPS. 


CHILDREN.  289 


Understanding  language.  Stories. 

simple  exercise  of  a  new  power.  The  crowds  which  press 
to  the  ticket-office  of  a  new  railroad, — or  the  multitudes  of 
delighted  citizens  brought  out  by  an  unexpected  fall  of  snow 
in  a  warm  climate,  jingling  about  in  every  sort  of  vehicle 
that  can  be  made  to  slide,  show  that  man  has  not  outgrown 
the  principle. 

Now  this  love  of  the  exercise  of  the  new  power  is  obvious 
enough  in  the  cases  which  I  have  referred  to,  as  seeing,  hear- 
ing, walking,  and  in  many  other  cases,  as  using  the  limbs,  pro- 
ducing sounds  by  striking  hard  bodies,  breaking,  upsetting, 
piling  up  blocks,  or  dragging  about  footstools  and  chairs.  It 
is  precisely  the  same  feeling  which  would  lead  a  man  to  go 
about  uprooting  trees,  or  breaking  enormous  rocks,  if  he  should 
suddenly  find  himself  endued  with  the  power  of  doing  so.  It 
is  obvious  enough  in  these  common  physical  operations,  but 
we  forget  how  many  thousand  mental  processes  there  are, 
and  others  complicated,  partly  mental  and  partly  physical, 
which  possess  the  same  charm  in  their  incipient  exercise,  and 
which,  in  fact,  make  up  a  large  portion  of  the  occupations 
and  enjoyments  of  childhood. 

One  of  the  earliest  examples  of  a  mental  process,  or  rathei 
power,  which  the  child  is  always  pleased  to  exercise,  is  un~ 
derstanding  language,  or,  to  describe  it  more  accurately,  the 
susceptibility  of  having  pleasant  images  awakened  in  the 
mind,  by  means  of  the  magical  power  of  certain  sounds  strik- 
ing upon  the  ear.  There  are  thousands  who  have  observed 
the  indications  of  this  pleasure,  who  do  not  understand  the 
nature  and  sound  of  it.  Every  mother,  for  example,  observes 
that  children  love  to  be  talked  to,  long  before  they  can  talk 
themselves ;  and  they  imagine  that  what  pleases  the  listener 
is  his  interest  in  the  particular  thing  said, — whereas,  it  is 
probably  only  his  interest  in  finding  himself  possessed  of  the 
new  and  strange  power  of  understanding  sounds.  The 
mother  says,  "Where's  father?"  ""Where's  father  ?"  and 

N 


290  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Stories  for  children. 

imagines  that  the  child  is  pleased  with  the  inquiry,— 
whereas  it  is  only  pleased  that  that  sound, — "  Father," — 
striking  upon  its  ear,  can  produce  so  strange  an  effect,  as  to 
call  up  to  its  conception  a  faint  mental  image  of  the  man. 
It  is  this  magic  power  of  a  word  to  produce  a  new  and  pecu- 
liar mental  state,  which  is  probably  the  source  of  pleasure. 
Hence  the  interest  which  the  little  auditor  will  take,  will  not 
be  in  proportion  to  the  connection,  or  the  point,  of  the  story  ; 
but  to  the  frequency  of  the  words  contained  in  it  which  call 
up  familiar  and  vivid  ideas.  Thus  a  talk  like  this.  "  Fire, 
fire  ;  pussy  runs ;  tongs,  tongs  fall  down  ;  walk,  run ;  Mary 
walk,  Mary  run," — will  be  listened  to  by  the  child,  who  is 
just  learning  to  listen  to  language,  with  as  much  pleasure  as 
the  most  connected  or  pointed  little  story.  It  is  not,  there- 
fore, what  is  understood,  but  the  mere  power  of  understand- 
ing,— the  first  development  of  a  new  mental  faculty, — which 
pleases  the  possessor. 

The  reader  may,  perhaps,  think  at  first  that  this  is  rather 
a  dim  distinction.  That  it  is,  however,  in  reality,  a  broad 
and  important  one  may  be  made  obvious,  thus.  Suppose  we 
should  suddenly  become  possessed  of  the  power  of  understand- 
ing the  language  of  signs,  used  by  the  deaf  and  dumb,  and 
should  meet  a  mute,  and  observe  him  talking  to  his  com- 
panion. How  much  interest  we  should  take  in  watching  his 
gesticulations,  simply  from  the  pleasure  which  the  first  exer- 
cise of  the  new  power  of  understanding  their  meaning  would 
give.  It  would  be  of  no  consequence  what  was  the  subject 
of  the  conversation.  We  should  take  as  great  an  interest  in 
the  most  common  questions  and  replies,  as  in  the  most  inter- 
esting narrative  ;  for  the  source  of  our  enjoyment  would  not 
be  our  interest  in  what  was  said, — but  the  pleasure  of  first 
enjoying  the  power  of  understanding  this  new  mode  of  saying 
it.  So  the  very  little  child  is  pleased,  not  with  the  point  or 
connectedness  of  your  story,  but  by  the  strange  production  in 


CHILDREN.  291 


Source  of  pleasure.  Love  of  employment.  An  offer  and  the  choice. 

his  mind  of  conceptions  and  images,  by  the  magic  influ- 
ence of  sounds, — conceptions  and  images,  which  heretofore 
have  only  been  produced  by  the  actual  presence  of  their 
prototypes. 

This  is  one  of  the  simplest  cases  of  the  pleasure  arising 
from  the  first  exercise  of  a  mental  power.  There  are  a 
thousand  others  which  come  forth,  one  after  another,  all 
through  the  years  of  childhood  and  youth,  and  keep  the 
young  mind  supplied  with  new,  and  still  new  sources  of  en- 
joyment. The  amusements  of  children  almost  all  derive 
their  charm  from  their  calling  into  exercise  these  dawning 
powers,  and  enabling  them  to  realize  their  possession.  Dig- 
ging in  the  ground, — making  little  gardens, — dressing,  and 
undressing,  and  disciplining  a  doll, — playing  store,  and  meet- 
ing, and  company,  and  soldier, — and  a  thousand  other  such 
things,  call  into  play  the  memory,  the  imagination,  the  use 
of  the  limbs  and  senses,  and  thus  exercise  all  the  powers 
which  have  not  yet  lost  their  novelty.  In  fact,  these  powers 
are  so  rapidly  progressive  that  they  are  always  new. 

This  love  of  action  now, — this  pleasure  in  trying  the  new 
powers  is  among  the  strongest  of  the  propensities  of  childhood. 
It  is  certainly  stronger  than  the  appetites.  At  least  my  ob- 
servation has  led  me  to  think  so,  and  to  put  the  question  to 
the  test,  in  one  case,  I  have  addressed  a  boy,  five  years  old, — 
and  at  least  as  great  a  lover  of  sugar  and  of  sugar  dogs  as  other 
boys  of  his  years, — who  has  come  into  my  study  while  I  am 
penning  these  remarks,  thus  : 

"  Suppose,  now,  I  should  tell  you  that  you  might  either 
have  four  large  lumps  of  sugar,  or  go  and  get  some  sticks 
and  paper,  and  help  me  make  my  fire  ;  which  should  you 
rather  do  ?" 

"  Why, — I  think  I  had  rather  help  you  make  the  fire." 

1  Well,  suppose  I  should  tell  you  that  I  was  going  to  cut 
some  paper  into  small  pieces,  and  do  up  a  little  of  my  black 


292  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD 

Another  offer.  Counting.  An  experiment. 

sand  in  each  piece  ;  and  that  you  might  have  your  choice, 
either  to  sit  up  to  the  table  and  help  me,  or  have  a  large 
piece  of  apple  pie,  or  three  sugar  dogs,  and  one  handsome 
sugar  rabbit  ?" 

The  countenance  of  the  child  showed  for  an  instant  that  it 
was  a  very  serious  question,  but  he  said, 

"  I  should  rather  help  do  up  the  sand, — if  there  are  scis- 
sors enough,"  glancing  an  eye  at  the  single  pair  of  slender 
paper  shears  which  lay  upon  the  table. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  a  vast  majority  of  children,  from 
three  to  five  years  of  age,  would  answer  similar  questions  in 
a  similar  manner.  What  time  and  money  are  spent  in  sweet- 
meats and  expensive  toys,  to  win  an  access  for  the  donors  to 
children's  hearts,  or  to  make  them  happy,  while  all  the  time 
the  path  to  childish  affection  and  enjoyment  lies  in  so  totally 
different  a  direction ! 

In  fact  the  charm  of  a  toy,  for  children,  consists  generally 
much  more  in  what  they  can  do  with  it,  than  in  the  thing 
itself,  however  curious  and  beautiful  it  may  be. 

Any  one  who  will  make  childhood  a  study,  by  observing 
its  peculiarities,  and  making  experiments  upon  its  feelings 
and  tendencies,  will  find  innumerable  examples  of  the  grati- 
fication that  children  derive  from  the  mere  exercise  of  their 
nascent  powers  without  end  or  aim.  There  is  enumeration, 
for  example, — the  power  of  conceiving  of  numbers,  and  of 
their  relations  to  one  another.  You  may  try  this  experiment 
upon  it ;  take  a  young  child,  from  three  to  four  years  of  age, 
just  old  enough  to  begin  to  count,  and  sit  up  with  him  to  a 
table  with  ten  wafers,  or  kernels  of  corn,  or  coffee,  before 
you.  Let  him  look  at  the  objects,  until  his  interest  in  them 
simply  as  objects  is  satisfied,  and  then  begin  to  count  them 
and  reckon  them  in  various  ways,  so  as  gently  to  exercise  his 
dawning  powers  of  calculation.  First  count  them  all.  Then 


CHILDREN 


293 


Steps  minute  and  simple. 


count  two  of  them,  and 
two  more,  and  then  the 
whole  four.  Go  on 
perhaps  thus  : 

"  There  is  one,  and 
there  is  another,  that 
makes  two  ;  now  there 
is  another.  How  many 
do  two  and  anoth- 
er, counted  together, 
make  ?  Let  us  see. 
One,  two,  three.  They 
make  three.  Two 
things,  and  then  an- 
other thing  put  with 
them,  make  three  COUNTING. 

things. 

"  Now  we  will  put  them  in  a  row,  and  begin  at  this  end 
and  count  them.  It  makes  ten.  Now  we  will  hegin  at  the 
other  end,  and  see  if  it  makes  the  same.  Yes,  it  makes  ten. 
It  is  the  same.  If  we  count  them  from  this  end  to  that  it 
makes  ten,  and  if  we  count  them  from  that  end  to  this,  it 
makes  ten.  Now  we  will  begin  in  the  middle,"  &c. 

I  give  this,  in  order  to  show  how  extremely  short  and 
simple  are  the  steps  which  must  be  taken,  in  order  to  enable 
the  child  to  follow,  when  the  reckoning  powers  are  just  be- 
ginning to  be  formed.  Such  steps  may  be  indefinitely  varied, 
by  a  little  ingenuity,  while  yet  they  keep  the  mind  of  the 
child  all  the  time  occupied  with  simply  reckoning  numbers, 
that  is,  exercising  a  power  which  he  then,  almost  for  the  first 
time,  finds  that  he  possesses.  In  fact,  he  can  hardly  be  said 
to  have  possessed  it  before.  The  exercise  not  merely  calls 
them  into  play ;  it  almost  calls  them  into  being.  Go  on, 
then,  with  the  work,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  how  long  he 


294  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Make  work  for  children.  Second  principle. 

will  continue  to  be  interested.  Unless  at  the  time  of  the  ex- 
periment some  other  object  of  excitement  has  possession  of 
his  mind,  your  patience  will  be  exhausted,  long  before  he 
will  be  ready  to  get  down. 

Such  examples  are  numberless.  In  fact,  let  an  intelligent 
observer,  when  he  sees  children  busily  engaged  in  some 
scheme  of  amusement  or  occupation,  pause  a  moment  and 
look  over  them,  and  ask,  "  What  now  is  the  secret  source  of 
pleasure  here  ?  What  constitutes  the  charm  ?  What  power 
of  body  or  mind  is  it,  the  exercise  of  which  gives  the  enjoy- 
ment ?"  Such  inquiries,  and  the  analysis  to  which  they  lead, 
will  give  one  a  deep  insight  into  the  character  and  feelings 
of  childhood,  and  the  great  springs  of  its  action.  He  who 
would  gain  an  ascendency  over  children  must  thus  study 
them,  and  in  his  plans  for  amusing  them  he  must  aid  them 
in  this  their  leading  desire.  Make  work  for  them, — lay  be- 
fore them  objects  and  occupations  which  shall  make  them  ac- 
quainted with  their  powers  by  calling  these  powers  out  into 
action  ; — being  careful  always  to  lead  them  to  modes  of  ac- 
tion which  will  not  interfere  with  the  comforts  or  rights  of 
others.  No  one  can  really  understand  children  in  this  re- 
spect, and  sympathize  with  them,  and  aid  them,  without 
finding  their  hearts  bound  soon  to  him  by  the  strongest  ties 
of  gratitude  and  affection.  But  we  must  pass  on  to  the  other 
leading  impulses  of  childhood  as  above  enumerated 

2.  To  learn  all  that  they  can  about  the  world  into  which 
they  find  themselves  ushered. 

Next  to  their  desire  to  act,  their  strongest  impulse  is  a  de- 
sire to  know.  This,  like  the  other,  has  been  universally  ob- 
served ;  but,  like  the  other,  its  true  nature  is  not  very  exactly 
understood.  It  is  not  so  much  a  desire  to  know  what  is  re- 
markable or  curious,  as  to  know  what  is  ;  it  is  the  interest 
of  knotting,  rather  than  an  interest  in  the  extraordinariness 
of  what  is  known  With  them,  the  distinction  between  what 


CHILDREN.  295 


«  More  stories."  Subjects  for  talk.  Every  thing  new. 

is  common  and  what  is  extraordinary  is  lost,  or  rather  it  has 
never  been  acquired.  All  things  are  new  to  them,  and  con- 
sequently if  you  tell  them  something,  or  explain  to  them 
something,  it  is  of  but  little  consequence  what  it  is. 

"  My  child  is  continually  asking  for  stories, — more  stories, 
until  my  powers  of  imagination  or  invention  are  exhausted, — 
what  shall  I  do?"  This  has  been  the  exclamation  a  thou- 
sand times.  It  shows  that  the  mother  who  makes  it  does 
not  distinctly  understand  the  nature  of  the  intellectual  want 
which  she  is  called  on  to  supply.  The  word  "  stories"  means 
talk, — or  at  least  any  talk  about  what  is  new  will  satisfy 
the  appetite  for  stories.  Set  off,  then,  on  any  track,  and  talk. 
Suppose  you  could  yourself  meet  a  man  who  had  been  in  the 
moon,  and  he  should  sit  down  and  describe  accurately  and  viv- 
idly what  he  saw  there  any  day  ; — how  he  took  a  walk,  and 
what  objects  he  saw,  and  what  incidents  he  met  with  :  or 
suppose  he  should  describe  the  interior  of  a  room, — any  room 
whatever  there, — the  furniture,  the  instruments,  their  uses  and 
construction  ; — why,  there  would  not  be  an  hour  of  his  resi- 
dence in  the  planet  that  would  not  afford  abundant  materials 
for  a  conversation  to  which  we  should  listen  with  the  deep- 
est interest  and  pleasure.  Now  we  must  remember  that  this 
world  is  all  moon  to  children,  and  we  can  scarcely  go  amiss 
in  describing  it.  There  is  no  hour  in  your  day,  and  no  ob- 
ject that  you  see,  which  is  not  full  of  subjects  of  interest  to 
them. 

For  instance,  suppose  a  child  comes  to  his  mother's  side 
while  she  is  sitting  at  her  work,  and  asks  for  a  story.  The 
mother  casts  her  eyes  about  her  for  a  subject,  and  as  my 
sand-box  is  the  object  that  presents  itself  first  to  my  attention, 
I  will  suppose  it  to  be  the  one  that  arrests  hers.  "  Come,"  she 
says,  "  I  will  tell  you  about  my  sand-box."  She  then  shows 
it  to  him,  unscrews  the  top,  points  out  the  various  parts,  and 
explains  them.  It  is  a  little  broader  at  the  bottom  than  in 


296  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  sand-box.  Talk  about  it. 

the  middle,  that  it  may  stand  steady, — and  at  the  top,  that 
it  may  receive  the  sand  more  easily  from  the  paper.  She 
shows  why  there  are  many  small  holes,  instead  of  one  large 
one, — what  the  sand  is  used  for, — how  it  adheres  to  the  wet 
ink  and  not  to  the  dry, — why  black,  rather  than  white  sand 
is  used,  and  why  the  box  is  formed  into  a  sort  of  basin  at  the 
top.  And  each  one  of  these  particulars  is  a  subject  of  itself, 
as  copious  as  the  whole  box  which  suggested  them.  The 
first,  for  instance,  the  broadness  of  the  bottom,  to  secure 
steadiness  of  support,  may  lead  to  other  similar  cases  ; — the 
bottom  of  the  lamp,  or  the  inkstand,  or  a  hundred  other  things 
similarly  constructed,  and  the  principles  by  which  steadiness 
is  given  to  chairs,  tables,  &c.  by  the  position  of  the  legs.  In 
the  same  manner  each  of  the  other  parts  of  the  article  is  of 
itself  an  independent  topic. 

A  pin,  a  wafer,  a  key,  a  stick  of  wood, — there  is  nothing 
which  is  not  full  of  interest  to  children,  if  you  will  only  be 
minute  enough.  Take  a  stick  of  wood.  Tell  how  the  tree 
it  came  from  sprang  up  out  of  the  ground, — years  ago ;  how 
it  grew  every  summer  by  the  sap  ;  how  this  stick  was  first  a 
little  bud,  next  year  a  shoot,  and  by-and-by  a  strong  branch ; 
how  a  bird  perhaps  built  her  nest  on  it ;  how  squirrels  ran 
up  and  down,  and  ants  crept  over  it ;  how  the  woodman  cut 
down  the  tree,  &c.  &c.,  expanding  all  the  particulars  into 
the  most  minute  narrative.  It  is  surprising  that  any  mother 
can  ever  find  herself  at  a  loss  for  subjects  of  conversation 
with  her  child. 

All  the  explanations  in  these  cases  should  be  accom- 
panied by  the  exhibition  of  the  article  referred  to,  und  by 
experiments  with  it.  Such  simple  experiments  and  illustra- 
tions, relating  to  the  most  common  occupations  and  occur- 
rences of  life,  will  occupy  the  embryo  powers  of  little  chil- 
dren with  as  intense  an  interest  as  would  be  excited  in 


CHILDREN. 


297 


A  thousand  subjects. 


T.l~    ".VLLOON. 


maturer  minds  by  imposing  philosophical  spectacles,  exhib- 
ited, with  all  the  appliances  of  modern  science,  in  the  most 
splendid  lecture-room. 

Every  object,  in  fact,  in  the  mother's  parlor,  may  be  made 
the  subject  of  a  lecture — or  a  story,  as  the  little  auditors  will 
consider  it, — for  half  an  hour. 

And  besides  this  whole  class  of  subjects, — that  is,  descrip- 
tions of  the  common  things  that  the  child  sees,  there  is 
not  a  half-hour  in  any  day,  the  history  of  which  would  not 
furnish  a  highly  interesting  narrative  to  a  child.  Take  for 
instance  your  first  half-hour  in  the  morning ;  describe  how 
the  room  looked  when  you  awoke, — what  you  first  thought 
of, — how  you  proceeded  in  dressing, — the  little  difficulties 
which  you  met  with,  and  their  remedies;  what  you  first  saw 
when  you  came  down  stairs,  and  what  you  did, — when  you 

N* 


298  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Describe  any  thing  to  children. 


first  met  your  little  auditor, — what  you  thought,  and  did,  and 
said.  The  whole  would  naturally  suggest  and  include  much 
which  would  be  new  information  to  the  child  ;  although  this 
would  not  be  the  principal  source  of  its  interest.  The  pleas- 
ure which  the  hearer  will  derive  from  the  discourse,  is  "the 
gratification  of  the  mysterious  appetite  of  the  human  mind 
for  language.  If  you  describe  nothing  which  the  child  did 
not  know  before,  he  still  enjoys  the  description.  Our  readers 
will  not  dispute  this  if  they  call  to  mind  the  fact  that  the 
most  interesting  passages  they  read  in  books,  are  graphic 
accounts  of  scenes  or  events  which  they  have  witnessed 
themselves.  The  charm  of  all  good  description  consists  in  its 
presenting  to  the  reader,  in  spirited,  graphic  language,  that, 
with  which,  as  a  reality,  he  is  most  perfectly  familiar. 
Hence  it  happens  that  if  we  take  up  a  traveler's  account  of 
our  country  we  turn  first  to  read  the  description  which  he 
has  given  of  our  own  town ;  partly,  perhaps,  from  curiosity 
to  know  his  opinion  of  us,  but  still  in  a  great  degree  for  the 
simple  pleasure  of  seeing,  through  the  medium  of  language, 
that  with  which  we  are  perfectly  already  familiar  by  the  eye. 
Our  object,  then,  in  talking  to  children,  is  not  to  find  things 
new  and  strange  and  wonderful.  We  have  only  to  clothe  in 
language  such  conceptions  and  truths  as  they  can  understand, 
without  racking  our  invention  to  produce  continual  novelty. 
Conversation  conducted  thus,  though  at  first  view  it  might 
seem  mere  amusement,  will  be,  in  fact,  very  highly  useful. 
The  child  will  rapidly  acquire  familiarity  with  language  by 
it,  which,  is  one  of  the  most  important  acquisitions  he  can 
make.  Then  you  will  insensibly  say  a  great  deal  which  will 
be  new  to  your  auditor,  though  it  may  seem  commonplace 
to  you ;  and  though  you  may  not  aim  always  at  moral 
instruction,  the  narratives  and  descriptions  which  you  give 
will  spontaneously  take  from  your  own  mind  a  moral  expres- 
sion which  will  have  great  influence  upon  his. 


CHILDREN. 


The  way  to  tell  stories.  A  specimen.  Subjects. 


Any  half-hour  of  any  day  will  furnish  you,  on  the  princi- 
ples above  explained,  with  abundant  materials  for  a  long 
narrative.  Any  walk  which  you  have  taken,  or  piece  of 
work  which  you  have  done,  or  any  plan  that  you  have  in 
mind,  if  properly  described,  will  abundantly  feed  and  satisfy, 
for  the  time  being,  your  child's  desire  to  know ;  for  you  must 
always  remember  it  is  not  necessary  that  what  you  say 
should  be  particularly  interesting  to  you,  in  order  to  interest 
him. 

Or,  if  you  wish  occasionally  for  something  more  strictly 
a  story,  set  off  at  once  with  any  hero,  and  in  any  direction  ; 
you  can  not  go  amiss.  "  A  boy  once  thought  he  would  go 
out  and  take  a  walk,  so  he  put  on  his  hat,  and  took  a  little 
cane,  and  went  down  by  a  brook  behind  his  father's  house." 
Say  so  much  without  any  idea  of  what  you  are  going  to  say 
next,  and  give  the  reins  to  the  imagination  and  follow  on. 
Do  not  task  your  powers  to  find  something  new  and  strange ; 
every  thing  is  new  and  strange  to  childhood.  You  may 
therefore  save  youself  the  trouble  of  research,  and  take  what 
comes.  Let  your  hero  see  something  on  a  tree,  and  wonder 
what  it  is,  and  find  that  it  is  a  knot, — and  then  see  some- 
thing else,  and  find  it  is  a  bird's  nest,  and  make  various 
efforts  to  get  up  to  it.  Let  him  meet  other  boys,  and 
sit  down  on  a  log  to  rest,  or  find  a  spring  of  water  and  try 
various  ways  to  drink,  or  throw  little  stones  into  a  brook,  the 
size  and  shape  of  each,  the  kind  of  place  they  fall  into,  and 
the  various  noises  made  by  them,  to  be  specified  ; — and  when 
you  are  tired  of  talking,  leave  your  hero  in  the  woods,  with 
the  promise  to  finish  the  account  of  his  adventures  and  his 
return,  the  next  time. 

A  walk  in  a  village,  an  imaginary  history  of  a  man's 
bringing  a  load  of  wood  to  market,  or  an  account  of  a  boy's 
making  a  collection  of  playthings  in  a  cabinet, — what  he 
had  and  how  he  arranged  them  ; — or  the  common  every-day 


300  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Fiction.  Conscientious  scruples.  A  danger. 

adventures  of  a  cat  about  house,  now  sleeping  in  the  corner, 
now  watching  at  a  mouse's  hole  in  the  dark  cellar,  and  now 
ascending  on  the  house-top,  and  walking  along  on  the  edge 
of  the  roof,  looking  down  to  the  boys  in  the  yard  below.  I 
mention  these,  not  to  propose  them,  particularly,  but  to  show 
how  wide  is  the  field,  and  how  endless  the  number  and  the 
variety  of  the  topics  which  are  open  before  you.  I  ought  to 
remark  here,  however,  that  the  distinction  between  what  is 
true,  and  what  is  only  imaginary  in  its  details,  ought  to  be 
clearly  explained  to  the  child,  and  he  ought  to  know  when 
you  are  narrating  real,  and  when  fictitious  incidents. 

Parents  sometimes  entertain  some  fears  that  there  may  be 
danger  in  narrating  any  thing  to  children  which  is  not  his- 
torically true,  lest  it  should  lead  them  first  to  undervalue 
strict  truth,  and  finally  to  form  the  habit  of  falsehood. 
Their  fears  are  not  without  some  grounds, — for  it  does  re- 
quire careful  watch  and  constant  effort,  in  any  case,  to  form 
and  preserve  a  habit  of  veracity,  in  children.  Whether  you 
relate  fictitious  stories  to  them  or  not,  you  will  often  find 
propensities  to  deceit  or  falsehood  in  their  hearts,  which  it  will 
require  all  your  moral  power  to  withstand.  We  can  not, 
therefore,  avoid  the  danger  of  children's  falling  into  the  sin 
of  falsehood.  The  only  question  is  how  we  can  most  advan- 
tageously meet  and  overcome  it. 

Now  it  seems  to  me  that  we  can  not  most  easily  do  it  by 
confounding  fictitious  narration  with  falsehood,  and  con- 
demning both.  For  no  one  pretends  that  the  narration  of 
fictitious  incidents,  is,  in  itself,  criminal.  It  is  objected  to 
only  as  having  a  tendency*  to  lead  to  what  is  criminal, — the 
intention  to  deceive  being  essential  to  the  guilt  of  falsehood. 
The  question  is,  then,  where,  in  attempting  to  guard  children 
from  falsehood,  we  can  most  advantageously  take  our  stand. 
Shall  we  assume  the  position  that  all  narration  not  his- 
torically true,  is  wrong  ?  or  shall  we  show  them  that  inten- 


CHILDREN.  301 


Is  fiction  allowable  at  all? 


tion  to  deceive  is  the  essence  of  the  guilt  of  falsehood,  and 
contend  only  against  that.  My  own  opinion  is  that  it  is 
easier  and  better,  in  every  respect,  to  do  the  latter.  If  the 
distinction  which  you  make  with  them,  is  between  what  is 
historically  true  on  one  side,  and  all  that  is  imaginary  on  the 
other,  they  can  get  but  a  shadowy  idea  of  its  being  reaDy  a 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong.  If,  however,  you 
bring  them  at  once  to  the  line  between  honesty  and  decep- 
tion, they  can  see  easily  and  readily  that  you  have  brought 
them  to  the  boundaries  of  guilt.  In  maintaining  this  dis- 
tinction you  will  have  reason  and  conscience  clearly  assenting, 
and  here,  consequently,  you  can  raise  the  strongest  fortifica- 
tion against  sin.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  extend  your  lines 
of  defense  so  as  to  include  what  you  admit  is  not  wrong,  but 
only  supposed  to  be  dangerous,  you  extend  greatly  your  circle 
of  defense,  you  increase  the  difficulty  of  drawing  a  line  of 
demarcation,  and,  notwithstanding  all  you  can  do  or  say, 
your  theory  condemns  the  mode  of  instruction  adopted  by  the 
Savior. 

We  may,  therefore,  indulge  the  imagination  freely  in  chil- 
dren, but  we  must  raise  an  impassable  wall  on  the  first  con- 
fines of  intention  to  deceive,  and  guard  it  with  the  greatest 
vigilance  and  decision. 

I  would,  therefore,  for  example,  if  a  little  child  should  ask 
for  a  story,  say,  perhaps, 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  something  real  or  something  imaginary  ?" 

"  What  is  '  imaginary  ?'  " 

"  Why,  if  I  should  make  up  a  story  about  a  squirrel  named 
Chipperee,  that  lived  in  the  woods,  and  tell  you  what  he  did 
all  day ;  how  he  came  out  of  his  hole  in  the  morning,  and 
what  he  saw,  and  what  he  found  to  eat,  and  what  other 
squirrels  he  met  ;  and  about  his  going  down  to  a  little  brook 
to  drink,  and  carrying  home  nuts  for  the  winter,  &c. — when 


302  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Truo  line  to  be  drawn. 

all  the  time,  there  never  was  any  such  squirrel,  but  I  made 
up  the  whole  story, — that  would  be  imaginary." 

"  But,  father,  that  would  not  be  true.  Is  it  not  wrong  to 
say  any  thing  that  is  not  true  ?" 

"  No,  it  is  not  always  wrong  to  say  what  is  not  strictly 
true.  If  I  were  to  say  any  thing  that  was  not  true,  in  order 
to  deceive  you,  that  would  be  wrong.  For  example,  if  I  had 
some  bitter  medicine  to  give  you,  and  should  cover  it  up  with 
sugar,  and  tell  you  it  was  all  sweet  sugar,  that  would  be  to 
deceive  you,  and  that  would  be  wrong.  But  if  I  invent  a 
story  about  a  squirrel,  just  to  amuse  you,  and  teach  you  in 
a  pleasanter  way  how  squirrels '  live, — when  I  tell  you 
plainly,  that  it  is  not  a  true  account  of  any  particular  squir 
rel, — should  you  think  that  there  would  be  any  thing  wrong 
in  that  ?" 

Thus  it  seems  that  in  this  case,  as  in  most  others,  it  will 
be  easiest,  safest,  and  most  expedient,  as  well  as  most  philo- 
sophical, to  draw  the  line  at  the  real  point  where  wrong 
begins.  Here  only  is  there  a  tangible  moral  distinction 
which  children  can  appreciate,  and  though  the  work  of 
keeping  them  off  the  forbidden  grounds  of  deception  and 
falsehood  will  require,  in  any  case,  much  effort  and  care,  it 
seems  as  if  this  was  the  most  proper  place  to  take  the  stand. 
If,  however,  after  mature  reflection,  any  parents  think  differ- 
ently, and  still  consider  all  fiction  dangerous,  they  ought 
undoubtedly  to  be  controlled  by  their  own  conscientious 
convictions,  and  abstain  from  it  altogether. 

We  have  mentioned  three  great  classes  of  subjects  which 
may  supply  mothers  with  means  of  conversation  with  their 
children  so  as  to  gratify  their  almost  insatiable  appetite  for 
knowledge.  We  have  gone  thus  fully  into  this  part  of  the 
subject  on  account  of  the  universality  of  the  complaint  on 
the  part  of  those  who  have  the  care  of  young  children,  that 
they  do  not  know  what  to  tell  them.  The  difficulty  arises 


CHILDREN.  303 


The  senses  the  avenue.  Example. 

from  having  a  standard  too  high, — striving  after  something 
new  and  striking,  or  possessing  peculiar  poetic  or  dramatic 
interest,  and  forgetting  that  every  thing  is  new  and  striking 
to  children  ;  and  that  consequently  there  is  scarcely  any 
thing  which  can  be  seen,  or  heard  of,  or  conceived,  which, 
properly  expressed  in  language  suited  to  their  powers,  will 
not  possess  a  charm. 

But  how  shall  it  be  expressed  in  proper  language  ?  For 
having  thus  attempted  to  show  to  those  interested  in  children 
what  to  tell  them,  we  may  perhaps  devote  a  few  paragraphs 
to  considering  the  best  way  in  which  to  tell  it. 

(1.)  Address  the  mind  of  the  child  through  the  senses,  or 
through  those  faculties  of  the  mind  by  which  the  impressions 
of  the  senses  are  recognized  or  recalled.  •  In  other  words 
present  every  thing  in  such  a  way  that  it  may  convey  vivid 
pictures  to  the  mind.  The  senses  are  emphatically  the  great 
avenues  to  knowledge,  in  childhood,  and  it  is  consequently 
through  them,  or  through  images  formed  by  means  of  them, 
that  we  can  have  the  easiest  access.  I  can  best  illustrate 
what  I  mean  by  contrasting  two  modes  of  telling  the  same 
story. 

"  A  man  had  a  fine  dog,  and  he  was  very  fond  of  him. 
He  used  to  take  a  great  deal  of  care  of  him,  and  to  give  him 
all  he  wanted ;  and  in  fact  he  did  all  he  could  to  make  him 
comfortable,  so  that  he  should  enjoy  a  happy  life.  Thus  he 
loved  his  dog  very  much,  and  took  great  pleasure  in  seeing 
him  comfortable  and  happy." 

This  now  presents  very  few  sensible  images  to  the  mind 
of  the  child.  In  the  following  form,  the  narrative  would 
convey  the  same  general  ideas,  but  far  more  distinctly  and 
vividly.  -•  , 

"  There  was  once  a  man  who  had  a  large,  black  and  white 


304  THE   WAY   TO   DO   GOOD. 

Generalization  and  abstraction. 

dog  beautifully  spotted.  He  made  a  little  house  for  him  out 
in  a  sunny  corner  of  the  yard,  and  used  to  give  him  as  much 
meat  as  he  wanted.  He  would  go  and  see  him  sometimes, 
and  pat  his  head,  while  he  was  lying  upon  his  straw  in  his 
little  house.  He  loved  his  dog." 

No  one  at  all  acquainted  with  children  need  be  told  how 
much  stronger  an  interest  the  latter  style  of  narration  would 
excite.  And  the  difference  is,  in  a  philosophical  point  of 
view,  that  the  former  is  expressed  in  abstract  terms,  which 
the  mind  comes  to  appreciate  fully  only  after  long  habits  of 
generalization  ;  in  the  latter  the  meaning  comes  through 
sensible  images  which  the  child  can  picture  to  himself  with 
ease  and  pleasure,  by  means  of  those  faculties  of  the  mind, 
whatever  they  may  be,  by  which  the  images  presented  by 
the  senses  are  perceived  at  first,  and  afterward  renewed 
through  the  magical  stimulus  of  language.  This  is  the  key 
to  one  of  the  great  secrets  of  interesting  children,  and  of 
teaching  the  young  generally.  Approach  their  minds  through 
the  senses.  Describe  every  thing  as  it  presents  itself  to  the 
eye  and  to  the  ear.  A  different  course  is,  indeed,  often  wise ; 
as  for  example,  when  you  wish  to  exercise  and  develop  the 
power  of  generalization  and  abstraction, — but  generally, 
when  your  wish  is  merely  to  interest,  or  to  convey  knowl- 
edge ;  that  is,  where  you  wish  to  gain  the  readiest  and  most 
complete  access  to  the  heart,  these  are  the  doors.  You  use 
others  after  a  time,  occasionally,  for  the  sake  mainly  of  having 
them  opened  and  in  use. 

The  intelligent  reader  will  be  able  to  apply  this  rule  to 
all  the  classes  of  subjects  mentioned  under  the  preceding 
head,  and"  will  see  at  once  how  much  additional  interest  may 
be  thrown  over  the  conversations  and  narratives  described, 
by  following  this  rule.  We  might  well  follow  out  the -prin- 
ciple, and  illustrate  the  application  of  it  to  the  various  stages 


CHILDREN.  305 

Minute  details.  An  example.  The  boat. 

of  childhood  and  youth,  and  the  proper  limits  of  it ;  for  ita 
limits  must  be  observed,  or  else  we  shall  make  the  pupil  the 
helpless  dependent  upon  his  senses  for  life.  There  is  how- 
ever little  danger  of  passing  these  limits  in  early  years.  The 
great  difficulty  with  instructions  and  addresses  to  childhood, 
and  with  the  books  written  for  them,  is  not  want  of  sim- 
plicity, as  is  commonly  supposed,  but  generality, — abstract- 
ness, — a  mode  of  exhibiting  a  subject  or  a  train  of  thought, 
which  presents  no  distinct  conceptions  to  a  mind  which  is 
unaccustomed  to  any  elements  of  thought  which  have  not 
form  or  color.  So  that  that  which  is  precise,  and  striking, 
and  clear  to  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  is  vague,  and  unde- 
fined, and  inappreciable  to  the  unformed  minds  to  which  it 
is  addressed. 

Persons  addressing  children,  or  writing  for  them,  in  en- 
deavoring to  adapt  their  mode  and  style  of  speaking  to  the 
capacity  of  their  auditors,  aim  sometimes  only  at  a  simplifica- 
tion of  their  language.  They  use  short  and  easy  words,  and 
affect  great  simplicity  and  childishness  in  the  structure  of  their 
sentences.  A  great  deal  more,  however,  in  such  cases,  depends 
upon  the  thought,  and  upon  the  aspects  in  which  the  thought 
is  viewed,  than  upon  the  language.  But  we  must  pass  on. 

(2.)  Be  exceedingly  minute  in  the  details  of  what  you  de- 
scribe. Take  very  short  steps,,  and  take  each  one  very  dis- 
tinctly. If,  for  instance,  you  are  narrating  to  a  man,  you 
may  simply  say,  if  such  an  incident  occurs  in  the  course  of 
the  narrative, — that  your  hero  "  went  down  to  the  shore  and 
got  into  a  boat  and  pushed  off."  Your  hearer  has  probably 
got  into  a  boat  often  enough  to  understand  it.  But  if  you 
are  talking  to  a  child,  he  will  be  more  interested  if  you  say, 
"  He  went  down  to  the  shore  and  found  a  boat  there.  One 
end  of  the  boat,  the  front  part,  which  they  call  the  bows, 
was  up  against  the  shore,  a  little  in  the  sand.  The  other 
end  was  out  on  the  water,  and  moved  up  and  down  gently 


306 


TIIE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Explain  minutely. 


THE   BOAT. 


with  the  waves.  There 
were  seats  across  the 
hoat,  and  two  oars  ly- 
ing along  upon  the 
seats.  The  man  step- 
ped upon  the  bows  of 
the  boat.  It  was  fast 
in  the  sand,  so  that  it 
did  not  sink  under  him. 
Then  he  took  up  one 
of  the  oars,  and  began 
to  push  against  the 
shore  to  push  himself 
off.  But  as  he  was 
standing  upon  the  bows 
his  weight  pressed  the 
bows  down  hard  upon 

the  sand,  and  so  he  could  not  push  the  boat  off.  Then  he 
went  to  the  other  end  of  the  boat,  stepping  over  the  seats. 
The  other  end  of  the  boat  is  the  stern.  The  stern  sank  a 
little,  and  the  boat  rocked  from  one  side  to  the  other,  and 
made  the  oar  which  was  on  the  seats  rattle.  There  was 
nothing  but  water  under  the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  that  was 
what  made  it  unsteady.  The  man  stepped  carefully,  and 
when  he  was  fairly  in  the  stern,  he  reached  his  oar  out 
again,  and  now  he  could  push  it  off.  The  bows  rubbed 
slowly  back,  off  of  the  sand,  and  in  a  minute  the  whole  boat 
was  floating  on  the  water." 

We  have  giveriMihis  thus  minutely,  to  show  what  almost 
infinite  expansion  the  most  common  incidents,  which  are 
passed  over  usually  by  a  word,  in  narratives  addressed  to 
men,  are  capable  of,  when  described  to  children.  And  it  is 
in  this  minute  arid  particular  way  that  they  wish  to  have 
every  thing  detailed  which  they  have  not  become  absolutely 


CHILDREN.  307 


The  black  sand. 


familiar  with.  In  fact,  in  writing  even  for  the  mature,  the 
success  of  the  composition  depends  much  upon  the  degree  of 
fidelity  with  which  those  most  minute  circumstances  which 
gave  to  any  scene  its  expression,  are  described  to  the  mind. 
But  in  addressing  children,  this  is  altogether  more  necessary. 
For  the  complicated  steps  with  which  long  acquaintance  with 
the  world  have  familiarized  men,  so  as  to  make  them  the 
simple  elements  of  higher  combinations,  retain  with  children 
all  their  original  complicatedness,  and  must  be  expanded  and 
exhibited  in  minute  detail.  It  would  be  well,  for  example, 
when  talking  of  the  sand-box,  in  addressing  men,  to  say, 
"  The  sand  is  black  rather  than  white,  that  it  may  corres- 
pond in  color  with  the  ink  that  it  covers,  and  preserve  a  con- 
trast with  the  paper."  This  would  not  do  for  a  child.  "  No  : 
the  words  would  not  be  understood,"  you  say.  True,  but  if 
we  alter  the  words  it  would  then  not  be  much  better.  Thus, 
"  It  is  black  rather  than  white,  that  it  may  be  like  the  ink,  and 
different  from  the  paper."  A  boy  four  or  five  years  old,  in 
hearing  that,  will  probably  ask  why  you  want  the  sand  dif- 
ferent from  the  paper,  or  else  pause  and  reflect,  trying  to 
take,  himself,  the  intermediate  mental  steps  necessary  to  a 
full  understanding  of  the  explanation.  The  reason  given  to 
him  in  full  would  be,  "  Suppose  the  sand  was  white,  like 
flour,  and  we  pour  it  on.  It  would  stick  on  the  letters  when 
the  ink  was  wet  and  make  them  look  white.  Now  the  paper 
is  white,  too,  and  you  would  hardly  see  that  there  were  any 
letters  there.  But  by  having  the  sand  black,  the  letters 
continue  to  look  black  after  the  sand  is  on  them,  and  of 
course  are  plainly  to  be  seen  on  the  white  paper."  This, 
which  would  be  a  tedious  explanation  to  a  man,  even  if  he 
had  never  heard  of  sand, — would  be  just  satisfactory  to  a 
small  boy. 

Thus,  every  thing  should  be  related  and  explained  minute- 
ly ;  arid  any  persons  who  will  pause  a  little  upon  this  princi- 


308  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Style  abrupt.  Tones.  Gesticulations. 

ciple,  and  consider  it  in  its  application  to  common  subjects, 
and  to  the  common  conversation  which  they  hold  with  chil- 
dren,— will  see  that  every  event,  every  incident,  every  fact, 
every  phenomenon,  however  common,  and  every  object  of 
sight  or  hearing,  is  connected  with  a  thousand  associations 
and  trains  of  thought,  which  may  thus  be  expanded, — and 
they  will  wonder  that  they  could  ever  be  at  a  loss  for  ma- 
terials for  conversation  with  the  young. 

(3.)  Let  your  style  be  abrupt  and  striking,  and  give  the 
reins  entirely  to  the  imagination.  Aim  at  the  utmost  free- 
dom of  form  and  manner,  and  let  your  tones  and  inflections 
be  highly  varied.  The  tones  expressive  of  emotion  are  in- 
stinctive, not  acquired  ;  as  is  proved  by  their  universal  simi- 
larity among  all  nations,  and  by  the  fact  that  children  have 
them  in  greater,  not  less  perfection  than  men.  The  style, 
too,  should  be  abrupt  and  pointed,  and  every  thing  illustrated 
with  action.  At  least,  this  is  one  element  of  interest,  to  be 
used  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  at  discretion.  We  find  that 
we  are  dwelling  too  much  on  these  details  and  must  hasten 
forward,  though  this  particular  topic  might  well  occupy  a 
dozen  pages.  We  will,  however,  take  one  example.  It 
may  be  our  old  story  of  the  man  who  was  kind  to  his  dog. 
We  have  given  two  modes  of  commencing  it,  the  second  add- 
ing very  much  to  the  interest  which  the  child  would  take 
in  it.  But  by  our  present  rule  of  giving  abruptness  and 
point,  and  striking  transition  to  the  style,  we  can  give  it  a 
still  greater  power.  Suppose  the  narrator,  with  a  child  on 
each  knee,  begins  thus  : 

"  A  man  one  pleasant  morning  was  standing  upon  the 
steps  of  the  door,  and  he  said,  '  I  think  I  will  go  and  see  my 
dog  Towser.' 

"  Now,  where  do  you  think  his  dog  Towser  lived  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  will  be  the  reply  of  each  listener,  with  a 
face  full  of  curiosity  and  interest. 


CHILDREN.  309 


The  man  and  his  dog  again. 


"  Why  old  Towser  was  out  in  a  little  square  house  which 
his  master  had  made  for  him  in  a  corner  of  the  yard.  So  he 
took  some  meat  in  his  hand  for  Towser's  breakfast.  Do  you 
think  he  took  out  a  plate,  and  a  knife,  and  fork  ? 

"  This  man  was  very  kind  to  Towser  ;  his  beautiful,  spot- 
ted, black  and  white  Towser ; — and  when  he  got  to  his 
house  he  opened  the  door  and.  said, 

"  '  Towser,  Towser, — come  out  here,  -Towser.' 

"  So  Towser  came  running  out,  and  stood  there  wagging 
his  tail.  His  master  patted  him  on  the  head.  You  may 
jump  down  on  your  hands  and  feet,  and  I  will  tell  you  ex- 
actly how  it  was.  You  shall  be  Towser.  Here,  you  may 
get  under  the  table,  which  will  do  for  his  house.  Then  I 
will  come  and  call  you  out  and  pat  you  on  the  head  ;" 
&c.  &c. 

We  go  into  these  minute  details  with  no  little  hesitation, 
as  some  of  our  readers  may  perhaps  consider  them  beneath 
the  dignity  of  a  moral  treatise.  But  when,  as  we  have  oc- 
casionally paused,  on  this  account,  while  penning  the  pre- 
ceding paragraphs,'  and  hesitated  whether  it  was  best  to  pro- 
ceed, we  have  thought  how  many  children  there  are  to  be 
made  happy  through  these  simple  principles, — and  how  many 
mothers  there  are,  and  older  brothers  and  sisters,  who,  never 
having  philosophized  upon  the  subject,  may  be  considerably 
aided  by  these  suggestions,  obvious  as  they  may  be, — and 
how  many,  many  hours  of  intercourse  between  parent  and 
child,  may  be  changed  from  times  of  weariness  and  tedium, 
to  those  of  profit  and  pleasure,  by  a  knowledge  of  these  simple 
avenues  to  the  childish  heart, — we  have  taken  courage  and 
gone  on.  To  know  how  to  make  a  single  child  happy  for  half 
an  hour  is  indeed  a  little  thing ;  but  the  knowledge  acquires 
importance  and  dignity,  when  we  consider  how  many  millions 
of  children  there  are  to  be  affected  by  it, — and  how  many 
half-hours  in  the  life  of  each,  may  be  rescued  by  these  means, 


310  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Third  characteristic  of  childhood. 

from  listless  uneasiness,  and  given  to  improvement  and  hap- 
piness. Thus  the  objects  though  comparatively  trifling, 
when  regarded  in  severalty  and  detail,  rise  to  dignity  and 
importance,  when  we  consider  their  vast  aggregation.  But 
to  return. 

An  abrupt  and  pointed  style,  and  varied  modes  of  illus- 
tration mingled  with  action,  will  give  spirit  and  interest, 
even  to  many  moral  instructions.  But  we  must  not  dwell 
on  this  point ;  and  we  pass  on  to  the  third  great  character- 
istic of  childhood.  The  reader  will,  we  hope,  keep  in  mind 
the  plan  of  our  discussion.  We  are  considering  some  of  the 
great  characteristics  of  childhood,  preparatory  to  some  prac- 
tical directions  for  gaining,  through  them,  an  access  to  the 
heart;  and  having  examined,  1.  Love  of  action,  and  2. 
Love  of  acquiring  knowledge,  we  now  pass  to  the  third, 
namely, 

3.  Affection  for  those  from  whom  they  receive  aid  and 
sympathy  in  their  desires.  Gratitude  in  the  young  partakes 
of  the  general  childishness  of  their  character ;  and  it  is  not 
perhaps  very  surprising  that  it  should  be  most  strongly 
awakened  by  such  kindness  as  they  can  most  sensibly  ap- 
preciate. 

In  fact  the  conditions  of  affection  on  the  part  of  children 
seem  to  be  two.  The  first  is  that  the  kindness  intended  to 
awaken  it  should  be  on  their  level,  as  it  were, — that  is,  that 
it  should  show  itself  in  favors  which  they  can  understand 
and  appreciate.  If  in  a  case  of  dangerous  sickness  an  aunt 
comes  and  watches  over  the  child  day  after  day,  and  by 
means  of  this  incessant  watchfulness  and  care  preserves  his 
life,  maintaining,  however,  during  his  sickness  and  conva- 
lescence, a  cold  and  reserved  look  and  demeanor, — there  will 
be  but  a  slight  awakening  of  gratitude  and  affection  in  the 
heart  of  the  patient.  He  sees  his  indefatigable  nurse  mov- 


CHILDREN.  311 


Conditions  of  gratitude. 


ing  in  a  region  of  thought  and  feeling  which  is  far  away  from 
him,  and  inapproachable.  She  does  not  come  near  to  him, 
and  he  can  not  go  near  to  her.  Under  these  circumstances 
it  is  impossible  for  him  to  realize  that  the  unwearied  care 
which  he  sees  bestowed  upon  him  can  arise  from  affection 
to  him  personally.  He  considers  it  as  a  sort  of  thing  of 
course,  and  it  awakens  little  gratitude  or  affection. 

This  tendency  in  the  heart  of  a  child  is  in  perfect  keeping 
with  the  general  laws  of  human  nature  in  respect  to  grati- 
tude and  love.  For  these  feelings  are  awakened,  not  by  the 
deeds  of  kindness  which  we  experience  from  others,  but  by 
the  feelings  of  kindness  of  which  we  consider  the  deeds  an 
indication.  It  is  a  sympathetic  action  of  heart  upon  heart, 
through  actions,  or  words,  or  looks,  as  the  medium ;  and 
consequently  the  effect  is  not  in  proportion  to  the  greatness 
of  the  favors,  but  to  the  distinctness  with  which  they  conduct 
the  mind  of  the  receiver  to  the  love  which  originated  them. 
Hence  it  is,  that  unless  the  kindness  which  you  render  to 
children  is  such  as  they  can  fully  appreciate,  it  will  not 
produce  its  proper  effects  ;  but  if  it  is  such  as  they  can  appre- 
ciate, that  is,  if  it  is  within  their  sphere,  it  will  produce  these 
effects.  Many  persons  are  often  surprised  to  see  how  easily 
some  of  their  acquaintances  will  gain  the  affection  of  children 
and  acquire  an  ascendency  over  them.  But  this  is  the  secret 
of  it.  They  come  down, — I  do  not  mean  in  the  actions  and 
demeanor,  but  in  the  nature  of  the  favors  which  they  show 
to  them, — to  their  level.  They  excite  or  employ  their  men- 
tal powers  ;  they  speak  a  kind  word  indicating  interest  in 
their  plays  or  pursuits ;  they  aid  them  in  their  own  little 
schemes,  or  at  least  regard  them  with  looks  and  words  of 
kindness.  These  are  indications  of  a  feeling  of  kindness 
which  the  child  can  understand  ;  and  as  we  have  before 
seen,  it  is  in  proportion  to  the  distinctness  with  which  the 


312  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  way  to  a  child's  heart. 

feeling  of  kindness  is  perceived  in  one  heart,  that  gratitude 
and  affection  are  awakened  in  another. 

The  second  condition  on  which  the  affection  and  gratitude 
of  children  is  to  he  secured,  is,  that  the  favors  which  call  for 
it  should  be  sincere ;  or  at  least  that  the  child  should  have 
sufficient  evidence  of  sincerity.  A  splendid  toy,  however 
adapted  to  interest  the  child,  if  sent  to  him  by  a  relative  or 
an  acquaintance  of  his  parents  who  really  cares  little  about 
him,  will  be  received  with  selfish  gratification,  perhaps,  but 
with  little  gratitude  toward  the  donor.  In  fact  this  condi- 
tion stands  on  the  same  foundation  with  the  other.  The 
child  must  see,  through  the  favor  bestowed,  a  feeling  of  real 
kindness  in  the  one  who  bestowed  it, — for  it  is  this  emotion 
in  one  heart,  which,  by  a  kind  of  sympathy,  awakens  the 
corresponding  emotion  in  another.  The  present  or  the  favor 
aids  only  as  the  medium  by  which  the  inter-communication 
is  made,  and  if  the  feeling  is  seen  without  it,  it  will  produce 
its  effects.  Thus  one  person  may  make  the  most  valuable 
and  costly  presents  to  children,  and  another  will  produce 
a  stronger  impression  upon  their  hearts,  and  awaken  a  more 
friendly  feeling,  and  connect  himself  with  them  by  more 
pleasant  and  permanent  associations  by  the  mere  manner  in 
which  he  looks  at  them,  as  he  passes  by,  while  they  are  play- 
ing in  the  street. 

4.  The  fourth  great  characteristic  of  children  is  their  dis- 
position to  catch  the  spirit,  and  imitate  the  actions  of  those 
whom  they  thus  love.  Probably  this  imitative  or  rather 
sympathetic  principle  has  more  influence  in  the  formation 
of  early  character  than  any  other  ;  nay,  perhaps,  than  all 
others  conjoined.  Associations  and  sympathy  have  far  more 
influence  with  children  than  argument  or  reasoning.  Or, 
rather,  we  might  almost  say,  associations  and  sympathy  have 
all  the  influence,  and  argument  none  at  all.  How  often  do 
parents  attempt  to  reason  with  children  in  respect  to  some 


CHILDREN.  313 


Reasoning  with  children.  The  baby's  name. 

duty  or  command,  by  way  of  facilitating  the  performance  of 
it ;  whereas  the  effect  is  directly  the  reverse.  The  discussion 
unsettles  the  subject,  and  throws  a  doubt  about  the  duty ; 
for  all  argument  of  course  presupposes  a  question  in  respect 
to  the  subject  of  it,  and  therefore  almost  always  makes  it 
harder  for  the  child  to  obey  than  it  was  before.  Reasoning 
upon  the  general  principles  of  duty,  at  proper  times,  when 
the  mind  of  the  pupil  is  in  a  state  of  repose,  is  highly  im- 
portant as  a  branch  of  instruction,  as  will  hereafter  more 
fully  be  shown.  But  after  all  it  has  comparatively  little 
effect  upon  the  formation  of  the  habits  and  character.  The 
cause  of  this  is  that  the  powers  of  ratiocination  are  among 
the  last  that  are  developed, — certainly  among  the  last  to 
come  in  for  a  share  in  the  government  of  the  conduct  and 
character.  If  the  reader  has  the  disposition  and  the  skill  to 
experiment  a  little  upon  childhood  in  this  respect,  he  will  be 
astonished  to  find  how  feeble  and  unformed  are  the  powers 
necessary  for  perceiving  a  logical  sequence,  and  how  entirely 
a  pleasant  association  will  usurp  the  place  and  exercise  the 
control  belonging  legitimately  to  sound  deduction.  Hence 
the  numerous  prejudices  and  prepossessions  of  childhood, — as 
for  instance,  the  preference  for  the  small  silver  coin  over  the 
large  bank  note ;  argument  and  explanation  being  often 
entirely  insufficient  to  overcome  the  associations  of  value 
connected  with  the  appearance  of  the  former. 

On  a  question  of  a  name  for  an  infant  brother,  a  boy  three 
or  four  years  old  expressed  and  persisted  in  a  preference  for 
George  over  Francis,  which  last  was  generally  voted  for  by 
the  family.  To  see  how  great  and  unquestioned  the  control 
of  mere  association  might  be,  in  his  mind,  I  said  to  him, 

"  If  his  name  is  Francis,  you  can  by  and  by,  when  he 
grows  up,  say,  'Mother,  may  I  take  Francis  out  to  ride?' 
and  mother  will  say,  '  Yes.'  Then  you  can  take  Francis  up 
and  carry  him  out  and  put  him  in  your  little  wagon,  and 

O 


314  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

The  logic  of  childhood.  Power  of  association. 

take  hold  of  the  handle,  and  then  say,  '  Francis,  are  you  all 
ready  ?'  and  Francis  will  say  '  Yes.'  Then  you  can  draw  him 
about  a  little  way,  and  after  a  little  while  bring  him  back 
and  say,  '  Here,  mother,  I  have  brought  Francis  back  safe.' 
— Do  you  not  think,  then,  that  his  name  had  better  be 
Francis  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  he,  cordially ;  convinced  and  converted 
completely,  by  this  precious  specimen  of  logic. 

Thus  the  reader  will  find,  on  scrutinizing  the  conduct  of 
children,  that  pleasant  associations  have  more  influence  in 
determining  their  preferences  and  habits,  moral,  intellectual, 
and  physical,  than  any  other  cause.  The  reasoning  powers 
ought  to  be  cultivated,  and  to  cultivate  them  successfully 
children  must  be  led  to  employ  them  on  the  various  subjects 
which  daily  come  before  them ;  but  while  this  process  is 
going  on,  we  must  take  care  that  the  other  great  avenue  to 
the  soul,  which  is  opened  so  early,  and  which  affords  so  easy 
an  access,  should  be  occupied  well. 

If,  then,  in  accordance  with  the  previous  heads  of  this  dis- 
cussion, you  take  such  an  interest  in  the  children  around  you, 
as  to  secure  their  gratitude  and  love,  you  have  formed  in 
their  minds  strong  and  pleasant  associations  with  your  char- 
acter and  conduct  and  feelings,  whatever  they  may  be.  You 
will  find,  consequently,  that  you  will  have  an  immense 
ascendency  over  them.  They  will  think  as  you  think,  and 
feel  as  you  feel.  They  will  catch  your  expressions,  and  the 
tone  of  your  voice  ;  your  looks,  your  attitudes  ;  your  habits 
and  peculiarities,  good  and  bad, — the  very  same  things  which, 
if  they  disliked  you,  they  would  mimic  and  ridicule.  So  that 
he  who  associates  freely  with  children,  and  by  his  sympathy 
and  regard  for  them  acquires  their  love,  will  leave  an  impress 
of  his  own  character  upon  theirs  which  all  the  years  of  after 
life  will  never  remove.  This  will  be  more  peculiarly  the 
case  with  those  higher  sentiments  and  opinions  and  principles 


CHILDREN.  315 


Common  failure.  The  father.  Power  of  affectlou. 

of  action,  which  are  formed  in  the  more  advanced  years  of 
youth  ; — they  are  caught  by  sympathy  from  the  mind  and 
heart  of  some  friend  whom  the  pupil  loves.  Judicious  rea- 
soning may  help  to  give  permanence  to  their  throne,  but  its 
foundation  is  in  this  sympathetic  influence,  which  argument 
will  be  utterly  insufficient  to  withstand.  In  the  same  man- 
ner bad  principles,  bad  sentiments,  and  bad  feelings,  are  com- 
municated to  the  youthful  heart, — not  mainly  by  sophistical 
reasonings,  nor  by  formal  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  corrupt  to 
instruct  their  pupils  in  the  principles  of  depravity.  False 
reasoning  and  deliberate  attempts  to  corrupt  are  undoubtedly 
often  employed  with  fatal  effect,  but  the  great  prevailing 
principle  of  the  spread  of  vice  is  moral  contagion  ; — the  pro- 
duction of  a  diseased  moral  state  in  one,  by  the  proximity  of 
its  like  in  another. 

Here  is  the  failure  of  many  parents.  They  stand  aloof 
from  their  children,  occupied  by  business  and  cares,  or  else 
having  no  sympathy  with  their  peculiar  feelings  and  child- 
like propensities.  The  heart  of  the  father,  therefore,  does  not 
keep  so  near  to  that  of  the  child,  that  there  may  be  commu- 
nicated to  the  one  the  healthy,  virtuous  action  of  the  other. 
This  place  of  influence  is  left  to  be  taken  possession  of  by  any 
body, — a  servant,  a  neighbor,  or  a  boy  in  the  streets ;  and 
the  father  aims  at  forming  the  character  of  his  son  by  ad- 
dressing to  him  from  time  to  time,  as  his  occupations  may 
give  him  opportunity,  plenty  of  sound  argument  and  good 
advice  !  The  boy  receives  these  counsels  in  silence,  and  the 
father  hopes  that  they  produce  an  impression.  The  down- 
ward progress  which  his  heart  is  making,  by  his  intimacy 
with  sin,  is  not  perceived,  but  at  last  when  he  is  twenty 
years  of  age,  it  can  be  no  longer  concealed,  and  the  father 
perceives  to  his  astonishment  that  all  his  good  instructions 
have  been  utterly  thrown  away.  It  is  the  ascendency  of 
affection,  and  that  founded  on  such  evidences  of  interest  and 


316  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Practical  directions.  The  field.  Influence  to  be  sought. 

good- will  as  the  child  can  himself  appreciate,  which  will 
alone  give  us  any  considerable  power ;  and  if  we  secure  the 
affection  we  shall  inevitably  wield  the  power. 

Having  thus  considered  the  first  general  division  of  this 
chapter  according  to  our  plan,  we  pass  to  the  second. 

II.    PRACTICAL    DIRECTIONS. 

1.  It  will  be  well  for  the  reader,  if  he  desires  to  accom- 
plish as  much  as  he  may  through  his  influence  over  the 
young,  to  explore  the  ground  first  distinctly,  that  is,  to  look 
around  him,  and  call  to  mind  the  youthful  individuals  over 
whom  he  must  or  can  exert  an  influence.     In  fact,  we  should 
often  do  this  in  our  hours  of  meditation,  when  looking  over 
our  plans  of  usefulness  and  the  manner  in  which  we  are 
carrying  them  forward.     By  this  means  we  shall  keep  before 
our  minds  a  distinct  idea  of  the  extent  and  boundaries  of  our 
field,  and  preserve   a  more  steady  interest  in  it.     A  general 
survey  like  this,  of  what  we  have  to  do,  is  in  all  departments 
of  duty  necessary,  in  order  to  give  system,  and  steadiness,  and 
thoroughness  to  our  work. 

2.  Make  it  a  special  object  of  attention  and  effort,  to  gain 
such  an  influence  and  ascendency  as  has  been  already  de- 
scribed, over  the  minds  of  the  children  whom  you  shall  find 
thus  within  your  reach  ;  the  influence  of  interest  and  attach- 
ment.    Parents  often  pay  too  little  attention  to  this.     Their 
intercourse  with  children  is  only  the  necessary  intercourse  of 
command  and  obedience.     A  father  who  devotes  some  time 
daily  to  interesting  himself  in  the  pursuits  and  pleasures  of 
his  children,  talking  with  them,  playing  with  them,  or  read- 
ing or  telling  them  stories,  will  gain  an  ascendency  over  them 
which,  as  they  grow  up,  will  be  found  to  be  immensely  power- 
ful.    They  are  bound  together  by  common  feelings,  and  by 
ties  of  affection  and  companionship,  which  have  a  most  con- 
trolling moral  influence  upon  the  heart.     The  duty  of  acquir- 


CHILDREN.  317 


The  parent  disappointed.  Brothers  and  sisters. 

ing  this  ascendency  is,  however,  often  neglected.  The  man, 
overwhelmed  with  business  or  burdened  with  cares,  does  not 
descend  to  the  level  of  the  child.  He  sees  that  his  boys  are 
trained  up  according  to  rule,  confined  by  proper  restraints, 
and  supplied  with  proper  instruction  ;  but  no  strong  ties  of 
interest  or  affection  reconcile  the  little  pupil  to  the  restraints, 
or  give  allurement  to  the  instruction ;  and  at  length,  when 
he  is  passing  from  twelve  to  fifteen,  or  from  fifteen  to  twenty, 
the  parent  gradually  finds,  as  we  have  before  explained,  that 
though  all  has  been  to  his  eye  right,  his  child  has  been 
in  heart  and  inward  character  going  on  in  a  course  totally 
different  from  the  one  he  intended.  The  alarmed  and  disap- 
pointed parent  tries  to  bring  back  his  son, — but  he  finds,  to 
his  surprise  and  sorrow,  that  he  has  no  hold  upon  him. 
They  are,  in  heart,  strangers  to  each  other.  Though  they 
have  breakfasted,  dined,  and  supped  together,  for  fifteen 
years,  they  have  been  in  fact  strangers  to  each  other  all  the 
time.  They  have  moved  in  different  circles, — have  had 
different  pleasures,  different  pains,  different  hopes,  and  differ- 
ent fears.  The  son  could  not  ascend  to  the  region  occupied 
by  the  father,  and  the  father  would  not  descend  to  that  of  the 
son.  Thus  they  have  been  sundered,  and  the  father  finds 
that  he  has  no  hold  over  the  heart  of  his  child  only  when  it 
is  too  late  to  acquire  it. 

But  perhaps  you  are  not  a  parent.  You  are  an  older 
brother  or  sister  still,  yourself,  under  your  father's  roof.  If 
now  you  really  wish  to  do  good,  your  most  important  sphere 
of  duty  is  that  little  circle  of  children  who,  next  to  their 
parents,  look  up  to  you.  In  this  case  it  should  be  your  first 
concern  to  gain  an  ascendency  over  their  minds  ; — an  ascend- 
ency based  on  their  regard  for  your  moral  worth,  and  an 
affection  inspired  by  your  kindness  and  interest  in  them. 

In  the  same  manner,  whatever  may  be  your  connection 
with  children,  whether  you  are  their  teacher  in  a  common 


318  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Indulgence.  Presents.  Dicision  and  firmness. 

or  a  Sabbath-school,  or  their  father  or  mother,  or  their  gov- 
erness or  guardian,  or  their  neighbor,  or  their  brother  or 
sister, — you  must  first  secure  their  interest  and  affection,  or 
you  can  do  them  little  good.  If  they  dislike  you  personally, 
they  will  instinctively  repel  the  moral  influence  which  you 
may  endeavor  to  exert  upon  them.  If  you  have  no  sympathy 
with  their  childish  feelings,  you  can  gain  no  sympathy  in 
their  hearts  for  the  sentiments  and  principles  that  you  may 
endeavor  to  inculcate  upon  them.  If,  however,  you  can  se- 
cure their  affection  and  sympathy,  your  power  over  them  is 
almost  unbounded.  They  will  believe  whatever  you  tell 
them,  and  adopt  the  principles  and  feelings  which  you  ex- 
press, simply  because  they  are  yours.  They  will  catch  the 
very  tone  of  your  voice  and  expression  of  your  countenance, 
and  reflect  spontaneously  the  moral  image,  whatever  it  may 
be,  which  your  character  may  hold  up  before  them. 

3.  Never  attempt  to  acquire  an  ascendency  over  children 
by  improper  indulgence.  It  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  human 
nature,  that  indulgence  never  awakens  gratitude  or  love  in 
the  heart  of  a  child.  The  boy  or  girl  who  is  most  yielded  to, 
most  indulged,  is  always  the  most  ungrateful,  the  most  self- 
ish, and  the  most  utterly  unconcerned  about  the  happiness 
or  the  suffering  of  father  and  mother.  Pursue  then  a  straight- 
forward, firm,  and  decided  course  ;  calm,  yet  determined  ; 
kind,  yet  adhering  inflexibly  to  what  is  right.  This  is  the 
way  to  secure  affection  and  respect,  whether  it  be  in  the  in- 
tercourse of  parent  with  child,  brother  with  sister,  teacher 
with  pupil,  general  with  soldier,  or  magistrate  with  citizen. 
Yes,  the  youngest  child,  when  allowed  to  conquer,  though, 
perhaps,  gratified  at  his  success,  has  sagacity  enough  to  de- 
spise the  weakness  and  want  of  principle  which  yielded  to 
him.  He  can  not  feel  either  respect  or  affection.  In  the  same 
manner,  you  can  not  depend  upon  presents.  Unreasonable  in- 
dulgence and  profusion  of  presents,  are  the  two  most  common 


CHILDREN.  319 


Tho  way  to  gain  an  influence.  Way  to  use  it. 

modes  of  endeavoring  to  buy  the  good-will  of  the  young. 
But  the  slightest  knowledge  of  human  nature  ought  to  teach 
us  that  love  can  not  be  bought,  and  if  we  were  without  even 
this  little  knowledge,  a  few  trials  would  be  sufficient,  one 
would  think,  to  convince  us  that  these  things  at  least  can 
not  buy  it.  Just  so  far  as  they  are  indications  of  your  sym- 
pathy and  affection  for  the  child  who  receives  them,  so  far 
they  will  tend  to  win  his  love  in  return.  But  other  indica- 
tions of  this  sympathy  and  affection  on  your  part  will  answer 
just  as  well.  Presents  alone  have  far  less  influence  in  awa- 
kening the  affection  and  gratitude  of  children,  than  kind 
words  ;  and  the  most  valuable  gift,  coldly  given,  will  not 
win  a  boy's  heart  half  so  effectually,  as  sitting  down  with 
him  for  a  few  minutes  on  the  bank,  and  helping  him  make 
his  whistle. 

4.  The  ascendency  and  the  influence  thus  described,  being 
once  gained  over  the  children  with  whom  you  are  connected, 
the  rest  of  the  work  is  easy.  You  have  only  to  exhibit  right 
conduct,  and  exemplify  and  express  right  feelings,  and  they 
will  spontaneously  imitate  the  one,  and  insensibly,  but  surely, 
imbibe  the  other.  This  they  will  inevitably  do,  whether  the 
expectation  of  it  be  a  part  of  your  plan  or  not.  Whatever 
principles  they  see  that  you  habitually  cherish,  they  will 
themselves  adopt,  and  they  will  catch  the  language,  and  tone, 
and  manner,  and  even  the  very  look  with  which  you  main- 
tain them.  And  this,  too,  whether  the  principles  are  good  or 
bad.  If  you  are  fond  of  dress,  or  applause,  or  admiration,  or 
money,  the  children  who  hear  your  conversation, — if  they 
love  you, — will  learn  to  be  fond  of  them  too.  If  they  see 
that  you  love  duty  and  your  Savior,  and  are  living  in  the 
habitual  fear  of  sin,  and  in  steady  efforts  to  prepare  for  a  fu- 
ture world, — they  will  feel  a  stronger  influence  leading  them 
to  the  same  choice,  than  any  other  human  means  can  exert. 


320  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Expression  of  the  truth. 

In  a  word,  if  they  love  you,  there  will  he  a  very  strong  ten- 
dency in  their  hearts  to  vihrate  in  unison  with  yours. 

5.  But  this  simple  possession  of  the  right  feelings  and 
principles  is  not  enough.  That  is,  though  it  will  alone  ac- 
complish a  great  deal,  it  will  not  alone  effect  all  that  may 
he  effected.  You  must  distinctly  express  good  sentiments  in 
their  hearing,  as  well  as  exemplify  them  in  your  conduct 
In  the  school-room,  on  the  Sahhath,  by  the  fireside,  in  your 
walks,  take  occasion  to  express  what  is  right.  I  do  not  mean 
hereto  prove  it,  or  explain  it,  or  illustrate  it, — I  mean,  to  express 
it.  Clothe  it  in  language.  Give  truth  utterance.  There  is  more 
in  this  than  mankind  generally  suppose.  In  many  cases,  when 
an  argument  on  a  moral  subject  is  successfully  presented  to  a 
popular  audience,  the  logical  force  of  the  argument  is  not  the 
secret  of  the  effect.  The  work  is  done  by  the  various  enun- 
ciations of  the  proposition  directly  or  indirectly  contained  in 
the  train  of  reasoning, — enunciations  which  produce  their 
effect  as  simple  expressions  of  the  truth.  There  is  something 
in  man  which  enables  him  to  seize,  as  it  were,  by  direct  pre- 
hension, what  is  true,  and  right,  and  proper,  when  it  is 
distinctly  presented  to  him.  He  sees  its  moral  fitness,  by  a 
sort  of  direct  moral  vision  ; — he  has  an  appetite  for  it,  as  for 
food,  which  is  only  to  be  presented,  in  order  to  be  received. 

This  is  specially  true  of  children,  for  in  them,  the  powers 
of  reasoning  are  not  developed,  and  consequently  the  suscep- 
tibility of  being  influenced  by  reasoning,  is  smaller  in  propor- 
tion than  with  the  mature. 

For  example,  you  are  walking  with  a  little  child,  on  a 
pleasant  morning  in  the  last  of  February,  on  the  crust  of  the 
snow,  and  some  little  snow-birds  hop  along  before  you,  pick- 
ing the  seeds  from  the  stems  of  the  herbage  which  the  wintry 
storms  have  not  entirely  covered.  Now  the  soundest  and 
most  intelligent  argument  that  you  can  offer  the  child  in 


CHILDREN. 


321 


The  winter  walk  and  the  snow-bird. 


favor  of  kindness  to  animals,  would  not  have  half  as  much 
power  over  its  mind  as  some  such  soliloquy  as  this. 


THE   SNOW-BIRDS. 


"  Oh,  see  that  little  hird.  Shall  I  throw  my  cane  at  him  ? 
Oh,  no  indeed  !  it  would  hurt  him  very  much,  or  if  it  did  not 
hit  him,  it  would  frighten  him  very  much.  I  am  sure  I 
would  not  hurt  that  little  bird.  He  is  picking  up  the  seeds. 
I  am  glad  he  can  find  those  little  seeds.  They  taste  very 
sweet  to  him,  I  suppose.  I  wish  I  had  some  crumbs  of 
bread  to  give  him.  Do  you  think  he  is  cold  ?  No,  he  is  all 
covered  with  warm  feathers ;  I  do  not  think  he  is  cold. 
Only  his  feet  are  not  covered  with  feathers.  I  hope  they  are 
not  cold." 

Or  if  your  companion  is  a  boy  of  ten  or  twelve  years  of 
age,  you  may  speak  in  a  different  manner,  while  still  you 
utter  nothing  but  a  simple  expression  of  your  kindness  and 


322  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  expression  of  kindness  or  of  cruelty. 

interest,  and  you  will  by  it  awaken  kindness  and  interest  in 
him.  You  say,  perhaps, 

"  See  that  snow-bird.  Stop,  do  not  let  us  frighten  him. 
Poor  little  thing  !  I  should  think  he  would  find  it  hard  work 
to  get  a  living  in  these  fields  of  snow.  He  is  picking  the 
seeds  out  of  the  tops  of  last  year's  plants.  Let  him  have  all 
he  can  find.  There  is  a  fine  large  weed  hy  the  side  of  that 
rock,  I  wish  he  could  see  it.  We  will  move  around  this 
way,  and  then  perhaps  he  will  hop  toward  the  rock.  There 
he  goes.  He  has  found  it ;  now  stop  and  see  him  feast 
himself." 

Suppose,  now,  on  the  other  hand,  you  say, 

"  Stop,  there's  a  snow-bird  ;  stand  back  a  minute  and  see 
how  quick  I  will  knock  him  down  with  my  cane.  If  I  once 
hit  him,  I  will  warrant  he  will  never  hop  again." 

Now  these  are  all  mere  expressions  of  your  own  feeling, 
and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  child  who  should  listen  to 
them,  would  find  his  heart  gliding  spontaneously  into  the 
same  state  with  your  own,  whether  it  were  that  of  kindness 
or  cruelty.  This  mere  utterance  of  the  sentiment  or  feeling 
of  your  heart,  would,  except  where  some  peculiar  counteract- 
ing causes  prevent  it,  awaken  the  like  in  him.  Hence,  be 
always  ready  not  only  to  exhibit  in  your  conduct  the  influ- 
ence of  right  principle,  but  to  express  that  principle  in  lan- 
guage. Many  persons  imagine  that  unless  they  explain,  or 
illustrate,  or  prove  the  truth,  they  can  have  nothing  to  say. 
But  they  mistake  ;  it  is  the  simple  expression  of  it,  pleasantly 
and  clearly, — as  it  may  be  expressed  in  a  thousand  various 
ways,  and  on  a  thousand  different  occasions, — which  will  do 
more  than  either  explanation,  illustration,  or  proof. 

6.  But,  still,  though  the  former  is  what  produces  compara- 
tively the  greatest  effect,  the  latter  must  receive  attention 
too.  Correct  moral  principle  must  not  only  be  exhibited  in 
your  conduct  and  expressed  in  your  conversation ;  it  is  also 


CHILDREN.  323 


Formal  Instruction.  N  Solitude. 

of  the  utmost  importance  that  it  should  be,  from  time  to 
time,  formally  illustrated  and  proved.  The  admission  of 
moral  principle  to  the  minds  of  the  young,  and  the  formation 
of  right  habits  of  feeling,  may  perhaps  be  most  easily  received 
at  first,  by  means  of  these  moral  sympathies  ;  but  it  is  only 
in  the  calm  and  intelligent  conviction  of  the  reason,  that 
rectitude  can  have  any  firm  and  lasting  foundation  for  its 
throne.  If  your  habitual  conduct  does  not  exhibit,  and  your 
conversation  express  right  principles,  you  can  never  bring 
your  children  to  adopt  them  by  any  arguments  for  their 
truth ;  but  if  your  habitual  conduct  and  conversation  is 
right,  formal  and  logical  instruction  is  necessary  to  secure 
permanently,  the  conquests  which  these  influences  will  cer- 
tainly make. 

7.  One  more  practical  direction  remains.  It  does  not 
arise  very  directly  from  the  general  views  advanced  in  this 
chapter,  and  has  in  fact,  no  special  connection  with  them. 
It  relates  also  more  particularly  to  the  duty  of  parents ;  but 
it  is  so  fundamentally  important  that  it  ought  to  be  appended 
here.  It  is,  keep  children  as  much  as  possible  by  themselves, 
— away  from  evil  influences, — separate, — alone.  Keep  them 
from  bad  company,  is  very  common  advice.  We  may  go 
much  farther,  and  almost  say,  keep  them  from  company,  good 
or  bad.  Of  course,  this  is  to  be  understood  with  proper 
limits  and  restrictions  ;  for  to  a  certain  extent  associating 
with  others  is  of  high  advantage  to  them,  both  intellectually 
and  morally.  But  this  extent  is  almost  universally  far  ex- 
ceeded, and  it  will  be  generally  found  that  the  most  virtuous 
and  the  most  intellectual,  are  those  who  have  been  brought 
up  most  by  themselves  and  alone. 

In  fact,  all  history  and  experieuce  shows,  and  it  is  rather  a 
dark  sign  in  respect  to  poor  human  nature,  that  the  mutual 
influence  of  man  upon  man  is  an  influence  of  deterioration 
and  corruption.  Where  men  congregate  in  masses,  there 


324  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Influence  of  man  upon  man.  Solitude. 

depravity  thrives,  and  they  can  keep  near  to  innocence  only 
by  being  remote  from  one  another.  Thus  densely  populated 
cities  are  always  most  immoral ;  an  army,  a  ship,  a  factory, 
a  crowded  prison,  and  great  gangs  of  laborers  working  in 
common,  always  exhibit  peculiar  tendencies  to  vice.  So 
with  the  young.  Boys  learn  more  evil  than  good  of  their 
playmates  at  school ;  a  college  student  who  is  regular,  quiet 
and  docile  at  home  in  his  vacations,  is  often  wild,  dissipated, 
idle  and  insubordinate  in  term-time  at  college ;  and  how 
often  has  the  mother  found  that  either  one  of  two  trouble- 
some children,  appears  subdued  and  softened  and  dutiful 
when  the  other  is  away.  It  seems  as  if  human  nature  can 
be  safe  only  in  a  state  of  segregation  ;  in  a  mass,  it  runs  at 
once  to  corruption  and  ruin. 

So  far,  then,  as  promiscuous  intercommunication  among 
the  children  of  a  town  or  a  neighborhood  is  impeded,  so  far, 
within  proper  restrictions,  will  the  moral  welfare  of  the 
whole  be  advanced.  The  principle  of  few  companions  and 
fewer  intimacies,  and  many  hours  of  solitary  occupation  and 
enjoyment,  will  lead  to  the  development  of  the  highest 
intellectual  and  moral  traits  of  character ;  in  fact  his  men- 
tal resources  may  be  considered  as  entirely  unknown  and  un- 
explored, who  can  not  spend  his  best  and  happiest  hours  alone. 

It  is  often  said  that  the  young  must  be  exposed  to  the 
temptations  and  bad  influences  of  the  world,  in  order  to 
know  what  they  are  by  experience,  and  learn  how  to  resist 
them.  "  They  must  be  exposed  to  them,"  say  these  advo- 
cates of  early  temptation,  "  at  some  time  or  other,  and  they 
may  as  well  begin  in  season,  so  as  to  get  the  mastery  over  them 
the  sooner."  But  this  is  not  so.  The  exposure,  if  avoided 
in  youth,  is  avoided  principally  forever.  A  virtuous  man  in 
any  honest  pursuit  of  life  comes  very  little  into  contact  or 
connection  with  vice.  He  sees  and  hears  more  or  less  of  it, 
it  is  true,  every  day,  but  his  virtuous  habits  and  associates 


CHILDREN.  325 


Learning  by  experience.  Recapitulation. 

and  principles  are  such,  that  it  is  kept,  as  it  were,  at  a  sort 
of  moral  distance  from  him.  It  does  not  possess  that  power 
of  contamination  which  a  corrupt  school-boy  exercises  over 
his  comparatively  innocent  companion.  A  vast  proportion 
of  the  vicious  and  immoral  are  made  so  hefore  they  are  of 
age,  and  accordingly,  he  who  goes  on  safely  through  the 
years  of  his  minority  will  generally  go  safely  for  the  rest  of 
the  way. 

It  is  not  best  therefore  to  expose  children  to  temptation 
while  they  are  young,  in  order  to  accustom  them  to  the  ex- 
posure. Keep  them  away  from  it  as  much  and  as  long  as 
possible.  Preserve  them  from  every  occasion  of  contamina- 
tion, and  keep  the  atmosphere  around  them  pure  as  long  as 
they  remain  under  your  care.  Their  future  safety  will  be 
far  better  secured  by  this  course,  than  by  any  other. 

The  principles  which  we  have  been  inculcating  in  this 
chapter,  may,  then,  in  conclusion,  be  summed  up  thus. 

Children  are  eager  to  exercise  continually  their  opening 
faculties,  and  to  learn  all  they  can  about  the  world  into 
which  they  are  ushered.  Those  who  aid  and  sympathize 
with  them  in  these,  their  childlike  feelings,  they  will  love, 
and  their  principles  and  conduct  they  will  adopt  and 
imitate. 

This  being  so,  we  have,  by  rendering  them  this  aid  and 
sympathy,  an  easy  way  of  gaining  over  them  a  powerful 
ascendency.  This  once  gained,  we  must  exemplify  in  our 
conduct,  and  express  in  our  daily  conversation,  and  enforce 
by  formal  instructions  the  principles  which  we  wish  them  to 
imbibe,  and  they  will  readily  imbibe  them.  Then,  to  make 
our  work  sure,  we  must  shelter  their  tender  minds  from  those 
rude  blasts  of  moral  exposure  which  howl  everywhere  in  this 
wilderness  of  sin.  Any  Christian  who  will  act  faithfully  on 
these  principles  toward  the  children  who  are  within  his 


326  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Conclusion. 

reach,  will  probably  save  many  of  them  from  vice  and 
misery,  and  he  will  certainly  elevate  the  temporal  virtue  and 
happiness  of  them  all.  And  if  he  acts  in  these  duties  as  the 
humble,  but  devoted  follower  of  Jesus  Christ, — sincere,  un- 
affected, honest  and  childlike  himself, — there  are  no  labors 
in.  which  he  can  engage  for  which  he  may  with  greater  con- 
fidence invoke  the  interposition  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  bless 
them  to  the  salvation  of  souls. 


INSTRUCTION.  327 


Instruction.  Plan  of  the  chapter. 


CHAPTER   X. 

INSTRUCTION, 
«  Apt  to  teach,  patient." 

IT  might  perhaps  have  been  expected  by  the  reader,  that 
the  subject  of  religious  instruction  of  the  young  would  have 
formed  a  subordinate  topic  of  the  last  chapter,  but  it  is  so 
extensive  and  important  in  its  bearings,  that  it  seemed  better 
to  give  it  a  more  full  discussion,  and  to  confine  that  chapter 
simply  to  the  character  of  early  childhood,  and  to  the  mode 
of  gaining  an  ascendency  over  it.  Besides,  it  is  not  merely 
to  the  young  that  the  principles  to  be  elucidated  now,  will 
apply.  It  is  the  whole  question  of  approaching  the  human 
intellect  with  religious  truth,  that  we  shall  here  consider, 
whether  the  subjects  be  old  or  young, — a  class  in  the  Sab- 
bath-school, or  a  circle  of  children  around  the  fireside  on  a 
winter  evening,  or  a  younger  sister  listening  to  the  conversa- 
tion of  an  older  one  while  walking  in  the  fields ; — and  even 
the  pastor  will  find  these  principles  and  methods,  such  as  in 
spirit  guide  him  in  his  course  of  instruction  to  the  adult 
congregation,  which  he  leads  forward  from  week  to  week  in 
religioug  knowledge. 

The  following  propositions  exhibit  the  view  which  we 
shall  take  of  the  subject  in  this  chapter. 

1.  Our  success  depends  upon  the  fullness  and  force  with 
which  the  details  of  truth  and  duty  are  presented,  and  not 


328  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Fire  propositions.  Mode  of  divine  instruction. 

upon  the  scientific  accuracy  with  which  they  are  condensed 
into  systems  of  theology. 

2.  The  Bible  must  be  resorted  to  as  the  great  storehouse 
of  moral  and  religious  truth. 

3.  The  field  of  observation  and  experience  must  be  ex- 
plored, for  the  means  of  applying  and  enforcing  it. 

4.  Its  hold  upon  the  soul  is  to  be  secured  mainly  by  wa- 
kening up  a  testimony  in  its  favor  from  within. 

5.  Attempts  to  remove  error  by  argument  and  personal 
controversy,  are  almost  always  in  vain. 

These  propositions  we  proceed  to  consider  in  their  order. 

1.  Our  success  depends  upon  the  fullness  and  force  with 
which  the  details  of  truth  and  duty  are  presented,  and  not 
upon  the  scientific  accuracy  with  which  they  are  condensed 
into  systems  of  theology. 

We  are  in  the  first  place  struck,  when  we  look  at  this 
subject,  at  a  very  remarkable  difference  between  the  mode 
which  God  has  taken  to  instruct  mankind  in  religious  truth 
and  duty, — and  that  which,  in  modern  times,  we  almost 
spontaneously  fall  upon.  His  mode  and  order  of  instruction 
are  totally  different  from  ours :  I  mean  are  totally  different 
in  one  respect.  He  exhibits  the  principles  of  truth  and  duty, 
one  by  one,  as  they  occur  in  connection  with  the  ordinary 
incidents  and  events  of  life.  We  give  them  in  the  order  of 
a  well-digested  and  logical  system,  in  fact  we  may  almost 
say  that  we  teach  the  system  rather  than  the  truths  them- 
selves by  whose  arrangement  the  system  is  constituted.  God's 


INSTRUCTION.  329 


Our  methods.  The  contrast.  Reason  for  it 

first  lesson  to  the  human  race  was  the  first  five  books  of 
Moses ; — the  simple  story  of  the  Patriarchs  and  of  the  children 
of  Israel,  and  the  institution  of  the  moral  and  ceremonial  law. 
Our  first  lesson  would  very  likely  have  been  an  abridged," 
systematized,  severe  treatise,  on  the  science  of  moral  and 
religious  philosophy.  He  simply  tells  the  story  of  Cain  and 
Abel.  We,  perhaps,  should  have  given  a  disquisition  on  the 
nature  of  murder ;  proved  that  human  life  is  sacred,  and 
analyzed  malice.  He  narrates  the  history  of  Abraham,  per- 
haps not  using  the  word  faith  at  all,  and  certainly  not  mak- 
ing a  single  remark  concerning  its  nature,  from  one  end  of 
the  story  to  the  other.  We  discuss  the  theory  of  faith,  sepa- 
rate its  essence, — point  out  all  the  distinctions  in  its  varieties, 
— some  real,  others  imaginary.  Religious  duty,  as  he  pre- 
sents it,  is  a  living  and  active  reality,  moving  about  among 
men,  developing  its  character  by  its  conduct.  In  our  hands, 
it  lies  upon  a  table, — as  some  writer  has  justly  said,  and  we 
are  demonstrating,  by  means  of  the  scalpel  and  forceps,  its 
inward  structure.  The  dissection  is  most  ingenious  and 
skillful,  and  the  demonstration,  though  sometimes  lost  in 
minute  details,  is  still  very  scientific  and  complete  ;  but  then 
the  poor  subject  is  often  murdered  and  mutilated  under  the 
operation. 

And  yet  we  ought  scarcely  to  say  that,  for  we  do  not  mean 
to  condemn  altogether  the  tendency  to  analysis  and  system- 
making,  so  prevalent  in  modern  days.  Times  have  changed  ; 
the  human  mind  has  altered  ;  not,  indeed,  in  its  native 
characteristics,  but  in  its  habits  and  modes  of  thought ; — 
and  instruction  now  has  somewhat  different  objects,  and 
must  pursue  somewhat  different  means,  when  addressed  to 
individual  infancy,  by  one  of  us,  from  those  adopted,  when, 
three  thousand  years  ago,  it  was  addressed  by  Jehovah  to 
the  infancy  of  the  human  race.  We  do  not,  therefore,  com- 
pare the  two  methods  in  order  to  condemn,  altogether,  ours. 


330  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Illustration.  Botany.  The  two  students. 

We  wish  to  look  at  both,  for  we  may  learn  a  good  deal  from 
either  ;  and  especially  as  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  in  our 
efforts  with  the  young,  and,  in  fact,  with  the  mass  of  man- 
kind, it  will  be  best  for  us  to  incline  strongly  to  the  example 
which  God  has  set  us  in  his  own  communications. 

The  two  methods  of  instruction  have  different  advantages. 
One  addresses  itself  to  the  thinking  and  reasoning  powers  ; — 
the  other  more  directly  to  the  conscience.  One  reaches  the 
intellect.  The  other  touches  the  heart.  Both  are  good, 
each  for  its  own  ends. 

But  a  word  or  two  more  before  we  proceed,  in  respect  to 
the  nature  of  the  difference  above  referred  to.  We  can  illus- 
trate it  by  describing  the  modes  by  which  two  individuals 
may  pursue  the  study  of  botany.  One  takes  books  of  scien- 
tific arrangement,  and  begins  with  classes,  and  orders,  and 
genera,  and  looks  upon  the  whole  vegetable  kingdom  as  a 
scientific  system.  He  goes  into  the  field  to  collect  specimens, 
simply  as  partial  illustrations  of  the  great  artificial  edifice 
which  the  labors  of  the  botanist  have  gradually  formed. 
The  system,  the  arrangement,  the  classification,  is  all  in  all 
to  him, — the  observed  facts  are  only  subsidiary  and  illustra- 
tive. It  was  not  so  with  the  botanists  themselves,  when 
they  formed  the  system.  The  observed  facts  were  the  fore- 
most with  them,  and  stood  out  prominent  in  their  concep- 
tions of  the  vegetable  world.  The  system,  the  arrangement 
came  last,  and  was  subsidiary  and  illustrative  in  respect  to 
the  facts.  But  our  student  has  reversed  this  process.  He 
begins  where  the  botanists  end,  and  works  back  to  where 
they  began.  Because  he  is  studying  their  works,  he  imagines 
that  he  is  treading  in  their  footsteps.  And  so  he  is,  but  he 
is  retracing  them.  The  track  of  his  foot  is  reversed  upon 
theirs  all  the  way.  He  looks  in  the  opposite  direction ;  he 
begins  where  they  ended,  though  he  seldom  gets  to  where 
they  began 


INSTRUCTION. 


331 


The  thistle. 


The  rose. 


THE   BOTANIST. 


Our  other  pupil  now 
lakes  a  different  course. 
He  goes  out  into  the 
field  looking  for  plants, 
and  he  first  sees,  we 
will  suppose,  along  un- 
der the  fences  and  by 
the  road-side,  a  profu- 
sion of  thistles.  He 
examines  the  structure 
of  this  individual  plant, 
notices  the  leaf,  the 
flower,  the  seed.  By 
means  of  books,  or 
through  his  teacher,  he 
learns  to  what  degree 
the  plant  is  extended 

over  the  earth,  that  is,  what  portion  of  the  earth  it  occupies ; 
— whether  it  is  spreading  still,  and  if  so,  where  and  how  : 
whether  it  is  useful  for  any  purposes, — or  injurious;  and 
what  methods  are  in  use  by  agriculturists  for  its  extermina- 
tion. So  he  examines  minutely  its  structure  ;  its  leaves,  its 
flower,  its  seed, — and  studies  its  habits.  In  a  word,  he  be- 
3omes  thoroughly  acquainted  with  this  one  plant,  a  plant 
that  is  all  around  him,  which  he  sees  every  day,  and  is  very 
often  made,  in  his  hearing,  a  subject  of  remark  or  conversa- 
tion. While  he  has  been  doing  this,  the  pupil  who  began 
at  the  other  end  has,  perhaps,  nearly  finished  committing  to 
memory  the  names  of  the  Linnsean  classes. 

Our  second  pupil,  however,  having  mastered  the  thistle, 
takes  next  perhaps  the  rose,  or  some  other  common  plant, 
and  after  having  studied  it  thoroughly  in  its  individuality, 
as  he  did  the  thistle,  the  teacher  calls  his  attention  to  the 
points  of  resemblance,  in  resoect  to  structure,  which  it  may 


332  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  right  end.  System. 

bear  to  the  thistle.  Here  now  is  his  beginning  of  system 
and  arrangement.  Connecting  together  by  observed  simi- 
larities, and  discriminating  by  observed  differences,  the 
objects  with  which,  individually,  he  has  become  fully  ac- 
quainted. This  is  beginning  at  the  right  end.  This  is  really 
following  on  in  the  footsteps  of  the  botanists,  his  masters. 
As  he  proceeds  he  arranges  and  classifies  his  knowledge,  just 
as  fast  as  he  acquires  it.  System  is  thus  the  handmaid  and 
preserver  of  knowledge,  as  she  ought  to  be,  and  not  the  mere 
substitute  for  it.  He  builds  up  in  his  own  mind  the  edifice 
of  scientific  system,  just  as  fast  as  the  substantial  materials 
are  furnished  him ;  and  comes  out  at  the  end,  as  the  great 
masters  did  before  him,  with  that  magnificent  temple  of 
science,  which,  like  all  other  substantial  edifices,  must  be 
built  from  bottom  to  top,  and  not  from  top  to  bottom. 

To  make  this  case  clear  and  distinct,  I  have  represented 
the  two  modes,  each  pure  in  its  kind,  the  extreme  cases  on 
the  two  plans.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  there  is  ordinarily 
some  mixture  of  the  two,  or  rather  an  adoption  in  general 
of  the  one  course,  with  some  tendency  toward  the  other.  In 
lact,  intelligent  teachers  who  may  read  this  chapter,  will 
probably  perceive  that  the  principle  of  the  latter  mode, 
though  really  most  philosophical  in  its  nature,  ought  not,  for 
the  common  purposes  of  instruction,  to  be  pressed  too  far. 
The  results  arrived  at  by  the  original  investigators  of  the 
science  may  aid  the  pupil  very  much  in  his  efforts  to  follow 
them  :  and  the  system,  and  the  principles  of  arrangement, 
might  very  advantageously  be  explained  in  general,  and 
carried  along  with  him,  as  he  goes  on.  Many  teachers  have 
erred  in  carrying  the  principle  which  I  have  been  endeavor- 
ing to  illustrate,  to  extremes :  in  the  mathematics,  for  ex- 
ample, and  in  the  natural  sciences.  They  have  thus,  some- 
times pressed  the  plan  of  making  the  pupils  pursue  this 
natural  course  of  induction  so  far  as  to  deprive  them  of  the 


INSTRUCTION.  333 


Nature  and  MSB  of  science  and  system.  The  theologians. 

aid  of  those  who  have  preceded  them.  In  fact,  carrying  out 
the  principle  to  its  full  extent,  would  almost  make  every 
pupil  an  independent  investigator  and  discoverer, — whereas 
a  life  would  not  suffice  for  the  most  common  attainments,  in 
any  one  science,  in  this  way.  The  true  principle  seems  to 
be  to  lead  the  pupil  over  the  ground  in  the  natural  track, 
acquiring  knowledge  first  in  detail,  and  arranging  and  classi- 
fying it  as  he  proceeds.  The  worth  and  utility  of  what  he 
learns,  will  depend  upon  the  fullness,  and  freshness,  and 
vitality  of  his  individual  acquisitions,  and  scientific  system 
should  be  gradually  developed  as  the  apartments  of  it  can  be 
occupied.  The  building  is  beautiful  in  itself,  it  is  true,  but 
it  is  valuable  chiefly  as  a  means  of  securing  and  preserving 
from  derangement  and  loss,  the  valuables  which  it  contains. 

And  now  to  apply  these  considerations  to  the  subject  before 
us.  Three  thousand  years  ago,  Jehovah  began  to  communi- 
cate by  slow  and  simple  steps,  moral  and  religious  truth,  and 
instruction  in  moral  and  religious  duty,  to  man.  He  brought 
forward  these  truths,  not  in  the  order  of  scientific  system,  but 
in  that  of  commonness, — every-day  importance, — moral  prox- 
imity. It  is  the  thistle  first,  and  then  the  rose.  These  revela- 
tions were  slowly  continued  for  many  centuries.  The  pro- 
foundest  intellects,  and  the  purest  moral  sensibilities,  have 
been  in  all  ages  of  the  world  employed  upon  these  truths, — 
examining  and  arranging  them,  and  observing  and  noting  the 
points  of  resemblance  or  of  diversity.  They  have  examined 
them  synthetically  and  analytically  ;  they  have  made  nice 
distinctions,  dissecting  out  truth  into  all  its  ramifications,  and 
they  have  explored  things  most  diverse  and  distinct  in  appear- 
ance, and  traced  them  to  a  common  origin.  These  intellec- 
tual processes  have  been  going  on  for  ages,  and  we  have  now 
before  us,  as  the  result,  the  same  truth,  indeed,  which  the 
prophets  and  the  apostles  taught,  but  arranged  and  classified, 
and  formed  into  a  scientific  system. 


334  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Province  and  value  of  theological  science. 

Let  now  the  reader  not  suppose  that  we  mean  to  condemn 
this.  Not  at  all.  If  any  thing  is  plain,  it  is  that  God  in- 
tended that  the  minds  of  men  should  exercise  themselves 
strongly  and  continually  upon  what  he  has  revealed.  The 
field  of  moral  and  religious  truth,  as  his  Word  and  the  uni- 
versal dictates  of  conscience  lay  it  open,  affords  the  finest 
scope  for  the  exercise  of  the  highest  human  powers  ;  and  the 
nature  of  the  case,  and  especially  the  very  condition  in  which 
the  close  of  his  revelation  has  left  the  whole  ground,  shows 
plainly  that  he  intended  that  we  should  explore  and  cultivate 
it.  The  object  of  these  remarks  is  not  at  all  to  condemn 
theological  science,  but  only  to  point  out  the  facts  in  the  case, 
with  reference  to  their  influence  upon  the  course  which  we 
ought  to  pursue,  in  endeavoring  to  initiate  the  young  in  re- 
ligious knowledge.  The  great  mass  of  religious  and  moral 
truth,  which  the  Bible  and  the  human  conscience  bring  be- 
fore the  mind,  in  slow  detail  and  minute  applications,  has 
been,  by  the  patient  theological  labor  and  acumen  of  many 
centuries,  at  last  elaborated  into  'scientific  systems.  Now  we 
must  not,  in  guiding  the  young,  commence  with  the  science 
and  the  system,  and  work  back  to  the  elements  ;  we  must 
go  round  back  to  the  beginning,  and  give  them  truth  and 
explain  to  them  duty,  substantially  in  the  order  and  manner 
in  which  God  has  done  it,  and  come  to  the  science  and  the 
system  at  last.  We  shall  explain  more  particularly  how 
this  is  to  be  done,  as  we  proceed.  But  this  general  view  of 
the  subject,  if  properly  appreciated,  will  at  once  throw  open 
a  very  wide  field  of  religious  instruction,  and  make  the  work 
comparatively  easy.  Persons  very  often  feel  timid  and  con- 
strained in  their  efforts  at  instruction  in  the  Bible-class,  or 
Sabbath-school,  or  even  with  their  own  children  at  home, 
because  they  feel  that  their  own  attainments  are  not  of  a 
Biifficiently  logical  and  systematic  character.  They  know 
vastly  more  than  their  pupils,  they  admit,  but  they  are  not 


INSTRUCTION.  335 


Systematic  education. 


scholars  enough  to  teach  what  they  know.  Their  own  edu- 
cation has  not  been  regular  and  systematic  enough,  they 
imagine.  That  is,  they  have  not  gone  through  the  whole 
theological  course,  and  come  out  with  that  complete  system 
of  truth,  by  which,  as  by  a  framework,  they  imagine  that 
all  subordinate  teaching  should  be  regulated.  But  this  is  not 
the  work  to  be  done.  Your  simple  business  is  to  look  at 
once  around  you,  and  take  any  thing  that  is  moral  or  reli- 
gious truth,  and  explain,  and  expand,  and  exhibit  it  in  its  sim- 
plicity, and  in  its  individuality,  to  the  minds  of  the  young. 
It  is  no  matter  whether  your  knowledge  exists  in  the  form  of 
systematized  theology  or  not.  In  either  case,  your  business 
is  to  bring  before  your  pupils  the  elements,  as  individual  ele- 
ments, in  all  their  freshness  and  particularity  and  their  end- 
less application  to  the  circumstances  and  wants  of  common 
life.  The  science  which  you  feel  the  need  of,  though  it 
would  be  of  immense  value  to  you,  as  a  means  of  giving 
clearness  to  your  conceptions,  and  vigor  and  confidence  to  all 
your  mental  operations,  is  not,  after  all,  what  you  want  to 
present,  as  such,  to  the  minds  of  children.  Teach  them 
all  the  details  of  truth  and  duty,  and  in  any  order.  Study 
and  present  the  principles  of  piety  in  their  ordinary  applica- 
tions to  the  circumstances  of  life.  Dwell  on  what  is  obvious, 
important,  and  of  every-day  utility,  rather  than  on  what  is 
metaphysical,  or  far-fetched,  or  refined,  and  thus  store  the 
minds  of  your  pupils  with  the  materials  which  their  riper 
studies  may  classify  and  arrange.  This  is  the  wisest  course 
for  them,  whether  they  form  a  Bible-class  of  youth,  or  a 
crowded  congregation  of  adults,  or  a  little  circle  of  children 
at  the  fireside. 

2.  The  Bible  must  be  resorted  to,  as  the  great  storehouse 
of  moral  and  religious  truth. 


336  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  Bible  the  storehouse.  Korah. 

The  doctrinal  and  preceptive  portions  of  the  Bible  deserve 
a  prominent  place,  undoubtedly,  as  the  source  from  which  re- 
ligious instruction  is  to  be  drawn,  but  perhaps  they  ought 
not  to  occupy  a  share  of  attention  so  nearly  exclusive,  as  they 
often  do.  The  narratives  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  of  the 
New,  are  full  of  materials,  if  read  and  explained  with  a  view 
to  bringing  out  their  moral  expression.  The  Bible  may  be 
studied,  in  fact,  with  many  totally  different  objects  and  aims, 
each  of  which  is  valuable  in  its  place.  We  may  carry  a 
class  rapidly  over  the  books  of  Kings  and  Chronicles,  for  ex- 
ample, with  a  view  to  obtaining  a  general  knowledge  of  their 
literary  contents  ;  and  by  collating  them,  and  comparing  pas- 
sage with  passage,  reduce  to  system,  and  to  a  clear,  connected 
view,  their  chronological  and  historical  details.  This  now 
would  be  totally  different  from  taking  up  in  detail  the  several 
narratives  which  these  books  contain,  for  the  purpose  of  bring- 
ing out  to  view  the  moral  lessons  which  each  one  was  intend- 
ed to  teach.  Now  it  is  this  latter  mode  that  I  refer  to 
here.  The  Scriptures  are  an  inexhaustible  storehouse  from 
which  moral  truth  may  be  drawn  in  every  form  of  its 
development,  and  in  all  the  innumerable  varieties  of  its  ap- 
plication. 

Let  us  take  a  case  at  random,  to  illustrate  how  full  the 
narratives  of  the  Scriptures  are  of  moral  truth,  which  needs 
only  to  be  brought  out  to  view,  in  order  strongly  to  interest 
and  to  benefit  the  young.  We  will  take  Korah's  mutiny, 
for  example.  We  select  this  case,  because  it  is  one  of  those 
narratives  which,  on  account  of  the  terrible  catastrophe  in 
which  it  ended,  is  generally  somewhat  known  fto  children, 
and  therefore  it  is  the  more  suitable  to  our  purpose  of  show- 
ing how  much  may  be  brought  out  to  view  by  a  little  atten- 
tion, which  otherwise  would  be  passed  by  unnoticed  and 
unknown. 

The  teacher  in  his  class,  or  the  parent  at  his  fireside,  or 


INSTRUCTION.  337 


Korah's  mutiny.  The  parties.  Their  designs. 

even  the  minister  in  his  pulpit,  opens  the  subject  with  the 
first  verse  of  the  passage,  thus  : 

"  Now  Kurah,  the  son  of  Eohatb,  the  son  of  Levi,  and  Dathan  and 
Abiram,  the  sons  of  Eliab,  and  On  the  son  of  Peleth,  sons  of  Reuben, 
took  men  ;  And  they  rose  up  before  Moses,  with  certain  of  the  children 
of  Israel,  two  hundred  and  fifty  princes  of  the  assembly,  famous  in  the 
congregation,  men  of  renown." 

Now,  in  order  to  have  the  moral  bearings  of  the  narrative 
clearly  appreciated,  the  first  thing  is  to  consider  distinctly 
the  several  parties  in  the  transaction ; — Korah,  one  of  the 
Levites,  and  Dathan  and  Abiram,  and  On,  of  the  people, 
with  their  respective  adherents.  In  all  such  cases,  we  must 
observe,  first,  who  are  the  persons  brought  upon  the  stage  of 
action,  and  what  their  situation  and  characters  are,  so.  as  to 
appreciate  their  words  and  actions,  and  to  observe  whether 
they  are  in  keeping  with  their  respective  circumstances.  In 
order  to  do  this,  in  this  case,  we  must  recall  to  mind  the  ar- 
rangement which  God  had  made  with  the  Israelites  in  the 
wilderness.  Aaron  was  the  priest,  holding  the  highest  ec- 
clesiastical dignity.  The  family  of  Levi  came  next,  and  the 
duties  connected  with  all  the  ordinary  services  of  worship 
devolved  upon  them.  The  people  generally  were,  of  course, 
devoted  to  other  occupations.  If  the  pupils  now  distinctly 
conceive  of  the  vast  assembly  encamping  in  the  wilderness, 
Moses,  the  military  commander,  Aaron  holding  the  supreme 
sacerdotal  dignity,  and  the  Levite  Korah,  uniting  with  the 
princes  Dathan,  Abiram,  and  On,  in  a  mutiny,  they  will  be 
prepared  to  understand  what  follows. 

"  And  they  gathered  themselves  together  against  Moses,  and  against 
Aaron,  and  said  unto  them,  Ye  take  too  much  upon  you,  seeing  all  the 
congregation  are  holy,  every  one  of  them,  and  the  Lord  is  among 
them  ;  wherefore  then,  lift  ye  up  yourselves  above  the  congregation  of 
the  Lord  ?" 

P 


338  THE    WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Conversation  with  Koran.  A  coincidence. 

Now,  how  much  of  human  nature  is  to  be  seen  in  this  ad- 
dress, when  we  come  to  examine  it.  The  real  feeling  in 
the  mind  of  the  speaker  was,  "  I  can  not  bear  to  be  second. 
I  mean  to  stand  as  high  in  official  dignity  as  Aaron."  Am- 
bition, pride,  a  spirit  of  insubmission  to  God,  was  the  stim- 
ulus. But  how  is  the  direct  expression  of  it  withheld, 
or  rather  covered  up  and  concealed,  under  an  accusation 
against  Moses  and  Aaron,  and  a  pretended  vindication  of  the 
rights  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  the  universal  pretext  of  the 
spirit  of  disorganization  and  rebellion  in  every  age.  "  You 
take  too  much  upon  you  ;" — when  they  were  themselves  go- 
ing to  take,  and  that  by  usurpation,  the  very  same  thing. 
And,  "  all  the  congregation  are  holy."  They  did  not  mean 
morally  pure,  by  this,  but  ceremonially  competent  in  the  eye 
of  God,  to  offer  worship  for  themselves.  This  was  said  just 
as  similar  things  are  said  now,  to  gain  partisans.  The  aspir- 
ing demagogue,  in  order  to  carry  on  his  schemes,  always 
flatters  the  great  mass  which  he  wishes  to  move,  telling  them 
that  they  deserve  an  equality  with  the  government  which  he 
wishes  them  to  help  him  overthrow. 

Observe,  now,  an  apparently  undesigned,  but  very  inter- 
esting coincidence  which  testifies  strongly  to  the  truth  and 
faithfulness  of  the  narrative.  Who  was  the  speaker  in  this 
case  ?  There  were  two  parties  in  the  rebellion,  Korah,  the 
Levite,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Dathan,  Abiram,  and  On  from 
the  people,  on  the  other.  Now,  which  was  the  speaker  in 
this  case  ?  The  narrative  does  not  tell  us  directly,  but  the 
speech  itself  betrays  the  feelings  of  the  Levite.  "  Ye  take 
too  much  upon  you,  for  all  the  people  are  holy ;"  referring 
evidently  to  the  ecclesiastical  aspects  of  the  arrangement 
which  they  opposed.  The  reply  of  Moses  corresponds.  He 
spake  unto  Korah  and  all  his  company ;  and  below,  we  find 
that  the  lay  leaders,  as  we  may  perhaps  call  them,  were  not 
present. 


INSTRUCTION.  339 


Datban  and  Abiram.  Their  reply. 

How  appropriate,  now,  is  the  reply  of  Moses  to  Korah  and 
his  adherents, — how  exactly  what  it  ought  to  be  in  such  a 
case,  to  set  in  a  clear  light  their  ingratitude  and  wickedness. 
After  proposing  a  test  by  which  he  was  on  the  morrow  to 
submit  the  question  to  the  decision  of  God  himself,  he  re- 
minds them  of  the  high  station  to  which  they  had  been  as- 
signed, and  of  the  ingratitude  and  criminal  ambition  of  aspir- 
ing to  a  higher  one. 

"  Seemeth  it  but  a  small  thing  unto  you,  that  the  God  of  Israel  hath 
separated  you  from  the  congregation  of  Israel,  to  bring  you  near  to 
himself,  to  do  the  service  of  the  tabernacle  of  the  Lord,  and  to  stand  be- 
fore the  congregation  to  minister  unto  them  ?  And  he  hath  brought 
thee  near  to  him,  and  all  thy  brethren,  the  sons  of  Levi  with  thee ;  and 
seek  ye  the  priesthood  also  I" 

His  reply  thus,  is  not  at  all  a  reply  to  what  Korah  had 
said.  Moses  disregards  his  speech  entirely,  and  comes  at 
once  to  his  feelings, — to  the  real  source  of  the  difficulty,  in 
the  pride  and  ambition  in  his  heart. 

Then  he  sent  to  call  Dathan  and  Abiram.  They  would 
not  come,  but  sent  a  disrespectful  message, — one,  however, 
entirely  different,  in  respect  to  the  grounds  of  the  complaint, 
from  the  speech  of  Korah,  and  in  exact  keeping  with  the 
characters  of  the  men.  Korah's  pretense  was  the  natural 
one  coming  from  an  ambitious  priest.  That  of  Dathan  and 
Abiram  was  just  as  natural  from  a  discontented  and  rebel- 
lious people. 

"Is  it  a  small  thing  that  thou  hast  brought  us  up  out  of  a  land 
that  floweth  •with  milk  and  honey,  to  kill  us  in  the  wilderness,  except 
thou  make  thyself  altogether  a  prince  over  us  ?  Moreover,  thou  hast 
not  brought  us  into  a  land  that  floweth  with  milk  and  honey,  or  given 
us  inheritance  of  fields  and  vineyards  ;  wilt  thou  put  out  the  eyes  of 
these  men  !  We  will  not  come  up." 

We  will  not  go  on  any  farther  with  the  narrative.     But 


340  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Various  questions. 

the  following  questions,  most  of  which,  even  the  youngest 
child,  who  had  once  read  and  appreciated  the  story,  would 
readily  answer,  shows  how  much  moral  truth  such  a  narra- 
tive, when  fully  appreciated,  may  be  the  means  of  developing 
in  the  mind. 

.  What  did  the  sin  of  these  men  chiefly  consist  in, — the 
feelings,  or  the  words,  or  the  actions  ? 

Did  Korah  commit  any  wicked  act  ?  Did  Dathan  and 
Abiram  ? 

Did  they  not  all  commit  sin  in  feeling  ? 

What  is  the  name  for  the  kind  of  feelings  they  had  ?  A 
rebellious  spirit. 

Do  children  ever  feel  a  rebellious  spirit  ?  Against  whom  ? 

Do  they  ever  feel  the  rebellious  spirit  when  they  do  not 
manifest  it  in  actions  ?  When  they  do  not  express  it  in 
words  ? 

What  reasons  are  there  that  prevent  their  expressing  or 
acting  it,  when  they  have  the  feeling  ? 

Can  a  rebellious  spirit  be  expressed  by  looks  as  well  as  by 
actions  ?  Do  children  ever  express  it  so  ?  By  what  sort  of 
looks  ? 

Is  the  rebellious  spirit  a  pleasant  or  a  painful  feeling  ? 
Were  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram  happy  probably,  while 
rebelling  ?  Would  they  have  been  happy  if  they  had  suc- 
ceeded in  what  they  wished  to  do  ? 

The  proposing  of  questions  like  these,  might  be  the  best 
way  of  bringing  out  the  truth  contained  in  the  narrative,  or 
suggested  by  it,  if  the  pupils  are  children,  whether  they  are 
gathered  in  numbers  around  their  teacher  at  the  Sabbath- 
school,  or  sit  upon  their  father's  knees,  to  look  over  while  he 
reads  the  story  from  the  great  family  Bible,  at  the  chimney 
corner.  If  the  audience  is  mature,  the  same  points  would 


INSTRUCTION.  341 


Moral  lessons  to  be  deduced. 


be  brought  to  view, — the  same  moral  analysis  of  the  story, 
though  the  results  would  receive  an  expression  in  language 
in  a  somewhat  different  manner.  The  questions  which  we 
have  given  above,  have  by  no  means  exhausted  the  subject. 
There  are  many  other  moral  instructions  to  be  deduced  from 
the  narrative.  Moses,  for  example,  in  verse  11,  considers  the 
rebellion  as  against  the  Lord.  This  naturally  leads  the 
mind  to  the  consideration,  that  Moses  and  Aaron,  being  ap- 
pointed by  God,  were  clothed  with  his  authority,  and  that 
opposition  against  them  was  rebellion  against  him.  This, 
properly  illustrated  and  explained,  will  set  in  a  very  striking 
light  before  children,  why  a  rebellious  spirit  against  their 
parents,  even  if  shown  only  by  looks,  or  not  expressed  out- 
wardly at  all,  is  a  sin,  not  merely  against  their  parents,  but 
against  God.  Then  there  is  the  subject  of  punishment,  too  ; 
the  evil  and  the  danger  resulting  from  such  conduct  making 
punishment  of  it  necessary,  and  the  great  guilt  of  it,  making 
a  severe  punishment  of  it  just  ;  and  so  with  a  great  many 
other  subjects  of  inquiry  and  reflection,  so  numerous  and  full, 
that  the  space  allotted  to  this  whole  chapter  would  scarcely 
afford  room  for  a  brief  enumeration  of  them. 

It  is  not  that  such  a  passage  directly  teaches  all  these 
truths,  or  that  they  can  be  logically  deduced  from  them, — 
nor  that  they  merely  suggest  them  as  principles  to  be 
proved.  The  narrative  calls  up  the  principles  to  the  mind, 
as  principles  intiiitively  perceived  to  be  true.  They  are  to 
be  expressed  by  the  voice  of  the  teacher,  knowing  that  the 
expression  of  them  will  be  re-echoed  and  confirmed  to  the 
pupil,  by  a  voice  within.  There  are  indeed  moral  and 
religious  truths  which  must  be  proved,  but  we  do  not  speak 
of  them  here.  We  speak  now  of  a  thousand  principles  of 
right  and  wrong  that  are  brought  to  view  in  the  narratives 
of  the  Scriptures,  and  which  need  no  proof.  Apprehension 
of  them  is  conviction.  Some  are  found  by  the  mind  in  the 


342  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOE. 

Two  kinds  of  interest  in  a  story. 

narrative,  others,  the  narrative  draws  forth  out  of  the  mind. 
So  that  in  some  respects  the  story  is  the  storehouse  which 
the  mind  explores  for  moral  treasures ;  in  others,  the  store- 
house is  the  mind,  and  the  book  the  instrument  of  admis- 
sion. 

We  have  taken  this  single  case,  and  dwelt  upon  it  to  show 
how  minutely  and  fully  the  individual  passages  of  Scripture 
should  he  explored  as  mines  of  moral  and  religious  truth. 
I  need  not  say  that  the  whole  Bible,  examined  thus,  would 
furnish  an  inexhaustible  store. 

All  persons,  both  old  and  young,  will  take  a  far  greater 
interest  in  the  moral  aspects  and  bearings  of  the  Scripture 
histories,  than  they  do  in  the  mere  incidents  of  the  narra- 
tive ;  or  rather  the  incidents  of  the  narrative  itself  will 
excite  interest  just  in  proportion  as  the  moral  meaning  is 
seen  through  them.  Teachers  of  the  young  often  overlook 
this, — they  bring  Scripture  narrative  before  their  pupils,  sim- 
ply as  a  history  of  occurrences,  and  a  great  portion  of  the 
force  and  point  and  beauty  lying  beneath  the  surface,  is  not 
seen. 

For  example  take  the  story  of  Job.  We  may  present  it 
in  two  totally  different  ways  to  a  class  of  little  children. 
Suppose,  for  the  first  experiment,  that  we  gather  the  little 
pupils  around  us,  and  read  them  the  account  of  Job's  pros- 
perity, accompanying  it  with  familiar  explanations.  We 
tell  them  how  many  sheep,  and  oxen,  and  camels  he  had, 
and  help  them  to  picture  to  their  minds  some  idea  of  his 
mode  of  life,  and  of  the  appearance  of  his  vast  herds  and 
numerous  household.  They  are  highly  interested,  Their 
curiosity  and  imagination  and  wonder  are  strongly  excited. 
Then  you  read  to  them  the  account  of  his  successive  losses. 
You  describe  the  incursions  of  the  enemy,  and  the  effects  of 
the  lightning,  and  bring  home  clearly  to  the  minds  of  the 
pupils  the  terrific  scenes  alluded  to  in  the  description.  The 


INSTRUCTION.  343 


Example.  Patience  and  submission. 

children  are  all  intensely  interested  in  it,  as  in  a  dreadful 
tragedy.  At  the  close,  perhaps,  you  say  that  Job  did  not 
repine  against  God,  notwithstanding  all  these  calamities ; — 
that  he  was  patient  and  submissive,  and  we  ought  all  to  fol- 
low his  example. 

Thus  the  interest  awakened  in  the  minds  of  the  children, 
is  an  interest  in  the  story,  as  a  narration  of  wonderful  inci- 
dents. The  moral  bearing  of  it,  is  but  slightly  alluded  to, 
and  the  whole  impression  made  by  it,  is  an  impression  upon 
the  imagination,  and  not  upon  the  heart. 

We  turn  now  to  the  opposite  course,  namely,  passing 
lightly  over  the  incidents,  and  bringing  out  fully  to  view  the 
moral  meaning  of  the  story.  With  the  same  or  a  similar 
little  auditory  around  you,  you  begin  by  telling  them  of 
Job's  vast  possessions,  in  general  terms,  and  then  saying 
that  God  determined  to  take  them  all  away,  in  order  to  try 
him,  and  see  whether  he  would  bear  it  submissively  and 
patiently. 

"Do  you  know  what  submissively  and  patiently  means?" 

"Yes,  sir."     "  No,  sir." 

"  Why,  suppose  one  of  you  should  have  a  beautiful  pic- 
ture-book, and  when  you  were  sitting  down  by  the  fire  to 
read  it,  your  mother  would  say,  '  Come,  I  must  put  that 
book  away  now ;  I  want  you  to  go  to  bed ;'  what  do  you 
think  you  should  do  or  say  ?" 

A  pause. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  exactly  what  you  would  do  or 
say,  but  you  may  tell  me  what  a  bad  child  might  do  or  say, 
in  such  a  case.  Any  one  may  tell  me." 

"  He  might  begin  to  cry." — "  He  might  say,  '  I  want  to 
sit  up  a  little  longer,  very  much.'  " — "  He  might  say,  '  I 
won't.'  " 

"  Yes,  and  a  boy  who  was  patient  and  submissive  would 
shut  up  the  book  pleasantly,  and  bring  it  to  his  mother,  and 


344  THE   WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Job.  The  dramatic  interest.  The  moral  interest. 

say,  '  Very  well.'  Now,  do  you  all  understand  what  patient 
and  submissive  means." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,  we  will  go  on  with  the  story  of  Job.  God 
took  away  all  his  property,  to  try  him,  and  see  whether  he 
would  be  patient  and  submissive,  or  not.  He  wished  to  see 
what  he  would  say." 

Then  read  and  explain  the  accounts  of  the  calamities  by 
which  Job  was  reduced  to  poverty  and  wretchedness,  in 
such  a  way  as  to  awaken  their  sympathy  for  him,  and  their 
curiosity  in  respect  to  its  effect  upon  his  mind. 

"  Thus,"  you  say  in  conclusion,  "  all  his  flocks  and  herds 
were  carried  away,  and  his  children  were  killed,  and  his 
servants  taken  captive  or  destroyed — ," 

"  All  excepting  the  men  who  escaped  to  tell  him." 

"  Yes,  they  were  saved,  it  is  true.  Now,  what  do  you 
think  Job  said  ? — do  you  know  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  It  was  something  very  remarkable.  It  showed  at  once, 
whether  he  was  patient  and  submissive,  or  not.  It  was 
something  very  remarkable,  indeed.  People  have  repeated 
it  a  great  many  times  since,  when  they  have  lost  something 
which  they  valued  very  much.  It  was  this, 

" '  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away : 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.'  " 

A  pause. 

"  It  was  just  as  if  the  child  whose  mother  had  taken  away 
his  beautiful  book,  should  say,  as  he  was  going  up  stairs  with 
the  candle  in  his  hand  ;  "  My  mother  gave  me  the  book,  and 
my  mother  has  taken  it  away,  I  will  not  complain  of  my 
mother.' — Should  you  not  think  that  would  be  a  patient  and 
submissive  boy  ?" 

Now,  in  this  case,  it  is  plain  that  the  great  effort  has  been 


INSTRUCTION.  345 


Both  combined.  Third  general  head.  Observation. 


to  bring  out  the  moral  expression  of  the  story,  so  that  children 
can  see  and  appreciate  it.  But  we  have  not  detailed  these 
two  modes  of  explaining  the  same  story,  to  condemn  the  for- 
mer ;  but  only  to  show  how  completely  distinct  in  its  nature, 
an  interest  in  the  moral  bearing  of  a  narrative  is  from  an 
interest  in  the  incidents,  considered  simply  as  a  story.  Both 
these  kinds  of  interest  ought  to  be  awakened  ;  but  the  latter 
especially,  by  all  means.  For  it  is  the  latter  alone  which 
can  give  to  the  study  of  thw  Bible  any  influence  on  the 
affections  of  the  soul. 

Thus  the  Bible  is  the  great  magazine  to  be  explored. 
And  it  is  to  be  explored  in  this  way,  so  as  to  bring  out  to 
view  the  moral  and  religious  truth  taught  in  every  page  of  it. 
Excite  in  your  pupils  as  strong  a  dramatic  interest  in  the 
narrative  as  you  can,  but  let  all  this  interest  be  concentrated 
upon  the  moral  principles  of  which  the  narrative  is  intended 
to  be  an  expression. 

3.  The  field  of  observation  and  experience  is  to  be  ex- 
plored for  the  means  of  enforcing  and  applying  religious  truth 
in  the  most  effectual  manner. 

The  habit  of  observing  and  analyzing  human  conduct  and 
character,  and  reflecting  upon  it,  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
enable  us  to  command  the  avenues  to  the  heart.  We  must 
be  in  the  habit  of  noting  the  most  common  occurrences,  and 
of  tracing  them  back  to  the  springs  of  action  from  which  they 
rise.  Observe  the  moral  truths  which  they  will  illustrate,  or 
the  moral  principles  they  exemplify,  and  reflect  upon  them 
in  this  light  in  your  hours  of  meditation.  There  is  a  vast 
diversity  in  different  minds  in  this  respect,  produced  by  habit 
or  by  different  degrees  of  intellectual  culture.  One,  in  look- 
ing upon  the  scenes  of  daily  life  which  are  exhibited  before 
him,  perceives  only  what  comes  to  the  eye  or  the  ear.  AD 

p* 


346  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Effect  of  a  habit  of  observation. 

other  traces  back  the  most  common  occurrences  to  their 
origin ;  and  the  exercise,  which  was  perhaps  at  first  a  study, 
becomes  ere  long  a  habit,  and  at  length  the  whole  panorama 
of  life  seems,  to  such  a  mind,  alive  with  the  expression  of 
those  moral  principles  and  laws  of  which  it  is,  in  fact,  the 
acting  out,  though  not  seen  to  be  so  by  the  common  observer. 
The  ordinary  exhibitions  of  human  action,  though  opaque  and 
tame  and  spiritless  to  others,  are  bright  and  transparent  to 
him.  He  sees  a  spiritual  world  through  the  external  one, 
and  the  spectacle  which  thus  exhibits  itself  all  around  him  is 
clothed  thus  with  a  double  interest  and  splendor. 

This  habit  once  formed,  every  thing  becomes  expressive  to 
the  mind  that  has  formed  it.  The  attitude  and  manner  of  a 
man  says  something  of  his  character.  A  conversation  in  a 
stage-coach,  on  any  ordinary  topic,  brings  to  the  view  of  the 
observer  the  operation  of  many  principles  of  human  nature, 
— and  the  actions  of  a  group  of  children  at  play  will  reveal 
to  him  their  respective  dispositions,  or  exhibit  in  interesting 
lights  the  various  propensities  of  childhood  ;  while  another, 
looking  upon  the  same  scene,  would  see  nothing  in  it  but  un- 
meaning frolicsomeness  and  confusion. 

In  the  same  manner  the  events,  and  incidents,  and  indi- 
vidual history  which  exhibit  themselves  in  our  progress 
through  life,  as  well  as  the  various  phases  which  human  con- 
duct presents  to  us  from  day  to  day,  ought  to  be  studied  with 
reference  to  the  moral  principles  which  lie  at  the  foundation 
of  them.  All  human  character  and  conduct  is  but  the  acting 
out  of  inward  principle,  and  the  events  and  occurrences  of 
life  are  determined  by  a  combination  of  movements  in  the 
moral  and  intellectual  world,  from  which  they  derive  all 
their  interest  to  us,  as  rational  beings.  It  is  in  the  develop- 
ment of  these  that  we  should  be  most  interested.  It  is  the 
common,  and  the  universal,  too,  not  the  extraordinary,  which 
should  interest  us  most  strongly.  A  vulgar  eye  stares  at  the 


INSTRUCTION.  347 


Refined  and  vulgar  taste. 


strange,  the  monstrous,  the  wonderful.  A  trunk  of  a  tree, 
twisted  into  the  rude  resemblance  of  a  man,  pleases  it  more 
than  if  it  grows  into  its  own  proper  form,  and  exhibits  its  own 
proper  expression  :  and  it  loves  the  gaudy  deformities  of  ex- 
cessive cultivation,  rather  than  the  simple  elegance  of  the 
natural  flower.  Carrying  the  same  principle  into  its  obser- 
vations upon  human  life,  it  sees  nothing  to  interest  it  in  the 
beautiful  operations  of  ordinary  cause  and  effect, — the  health- 
ful, quiet,  natural  expression  with  which  all  the  movements 
of  society  beam.  It  is  only  the  extraordinary  development, 
the  complicated  plot,  the  catastrophe,  the  escape,  the  won- 
derful, the  horrible,  which  can  arrest  its  attention  ; — the  true 
philosopher  derives  a  far  higher  pleasure  in  reading  the 
meaning  of  every  thing  around  him.  The  latter  is  pleased 
with  discerning,  in  common  events,  the  operation  of  an  Uni- 
versal Cause  ;  and  in  an  accidental  interruption  he  is  inter- 
ested chiefly  in  observing  the  new  influence,  whose  interven- 
tion produced  it.  The  former  is  pleased  only  with  accidents, 
and  with  them,  only  because  they  are  strange.  The  less  he 
understands  them,  the  greater  his  delight,  for  the  very  essence 
of  his  delight  is  surprise  and  wonder. 

Now  do  not  study  the  varied  scene  of  life,  which  exhibits 
itself  around  you,  in  this  way.  Make  it  your  aim  not  merely 
to  see  what  is  visible  to  the  eye,  but  to  read  its  hidden  mean- 
ing ;  and  take  pleasure,  not  in  novelty  and  strangeness,  but 
in  the  clearness  with  which  you  understand  and  appreciate 
every  common  phenomenon.  Be  intimately  conversant  thus 
with  a  moral  and  spiritual  world,  using  the  external  one 
around  you  as  the  medium  of  access  to  it.  He  who  does  this, 
will  find  his  mind  filled  with  a  thousand  recollections  and 
associations  which,  by  means  of  a  power  that  is  neither  im- 
agination or  memory  but  something  between,  will  furnish 
him  with  illustrations  of  all  which  he  wishes  to  teach  ; — illus- 
trations true  in  spirit,  though  imaginary  in  form. 


348  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  evidence  for  moral  truth. 

The  study  of  man  on  these  principles  will  give  the  Chris- 
tian who  pursues  it  immense  facilities  for  instructing  and  in- 
teresting his  pupils  in  religious  truth.  For  he  will,  hy  such 
means,  greatly  extend  his  knowledge  of  this  truth,  in  all  its 
thousand  ramifications,  and  in  its  endless  connections  with 
the  circumstances  of  life  ;  and  then  this  complete  familiarity 
with  the  field,  will  give  him  an  independent  and  original 
freedom  of  hand  in  the  discussion  and  illustration  of  truth, 
which  nothing  else  can  supply.  Thoroughly  furnished  thus 
with  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  considered  as  a  great  store- 
house of  moral  truth,  and  with  knowledge  of  man,  his  feel- 
ings, his  hahits,  his  principles  of  action,  and  the  thousand 
changing  hues  which  human  character  assumes,  he  may  go 
freely  and  boldly  forward,  and  will  be  prepared  to  labor  in 
this  field  with  the  greatest  success.  His  study  of  the  Bible 
will  give  him  the  truth  which  he  is  to  present,  and  his  study  of 
man  will  open  to  him  the  avenues  by  which  he  is  to  present  it 

4.  The  admission  of  moral  truth  to  the  soul  is  to  be  se-  / 
cured  mainly  by  means  of  a  testimony  awakened  in  its  favor 
from  within. 

In  several  instances  in  the  course  of  this  work  we  have  had 
occasion  to  refer  to  the  readiness  with  which  moral  and  re- 
ligious truth  is  received  by  the  human  mind,  when  properly 
presented  to  it.  It  seems  to  carry  its  evidence  within  itself, 
or  rather,  it  finds  faculties  in  the  human  soul  so  well  quali- 
fied to  judge  almost  instinctively  of  its  claims,  and  so  predis- 
posed to  admit  them,  that  the  single  presentation  of  it  seems 
generally  to  secure  its  admission.  There  is  a  sort  of  moral 
intuition,  by  which  moral  beauty  and  excellence  are  appre- 
hended, and  moral  truth  received. 

That  this  should  be  so,  follows  from  the  very  nature  of 
moral  truth.  It  does  not  consist  of  a  series  of  propositions, 


INSTRUCTION.  349 


Mathematical  truth. 


constructed  with  subject,  predicate,  and  copula,  and  following 
one  another  in  order,  like  the  successive  theorems  of  the  sci- 
ence of  astronomy.  In  fact,  this  way  of  considering  the 
mathematical  sciences  is  altogether  artificial,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  it  results  from  the  feebleness  of  our  intellectual  powers. 
To  a  mind  that  could  look  upon  the  whole  planetary  system, 
with  powers  sufficient  really  to  comprehend  the  mathemati- 
cal bearings  and  relations  of  the  whole, — the  tendencies,  the 
movements,  the  variations,  the  limits,  the  laws,  and  the  forces, 
in  their  combination  or  opposition  or  results,  would  appear  as 
one  magnificent  and  harmonious  whole,  and  would  be  seen 
by  the  intellectual  eye  directly  and  together.  Those  few  de- 
tached and  separate  principles  which  mathematicians  have 
drawn  out,  and  expressed  as  laws,  would  be  combined  in  the 
view  with  those  thousand  others  with  which  they  are  in 
reality  blended,  and  the  mind  would  survey  the  whole  com- 
plicated system, — (we  do  not  mean  the  system  of  visible  mo- 
tions, but  of  mathematical  laws,) — as  the  eye  would  take  in 
an  extended  landscape  spread  out  before  it.  Thus  the  vast 
and  complicated  results  which  we  have  to  deduce  one  by 
one,  by  means  of  our  laborious  computation,  would  be  directly 
perceived,  and  would  be  looked  upon  by  the  mind  as  one 
great  and  connected  reality,  and  not  as  a  few  detached  and 
artificial  propositions.  Our  intellectual  vision  is  not  strong 
enough  thus  to  grasp  the  higher  sciences  ;  and  so  we  grope 
our  way  from  one  detached  and  isolated  principle  expressed 
in  formal  language,  to  another,  wherever  we  can  find  the 
shortest  and  simplest  steps  ;  like  a  blind  man  in  a  palace, 
groping  along  by  the  aid  of  chairs  and  banisters,  and  know- 
ing nothing  certainly,  excepting  the  few  separate  objects  he 
has  touched  ;  which,  few  and  scattered  as  they  are,  prove 
to  him,  from  their  position  and  character,  that  he  is  in  the 
midst  of  a  scene  of  magnificence  and  splendor  which  he  can 
never  fully  realize. 


350  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

A  difference  between  moral  and  intellectual  science. 

It  is  so  with  all  other  sciences.  The  properties  of  a  tri- 
angle are  all  involved  in  the  very  nature  of  the  figure.  If 
our  minds  could  comprehend  that  nature  as  a  whole,  we 
should  see  all  these  properties  as  readily  and  directly  as  we 
now  perceive  that  there  must  be  three  angles  if  there  are 
three  sides.  Unable,  however,  thus  to  grasp  the  whole  at  a 
single  view,  we  grope  our  way  to  a  few  detached  and  separ- 
ate principles,  by  a  toilsome,  and  slow,  and  cautious  ratioci- 
nation. Reasoning,  therefore,  step  by  step,  from  premises  to 
conclusion,  is  the  resort  of  a  limited  mind  when  its  higher 
powers  fail,  and  the  detached  and  limited  results  thus  obtain- 
ed are  but  substitutes  for  more  comprehensive  knowledge. 
Still,  the  exercise  of  these  reasoning  powers  may  be,  as  in- 
deed it  is,  an  exhibition  of  the  noblest  and  greatest  efforts  of 
the  human  mind  ;  as  the  highest  effort  of  the  sagacity  of  a 
blind  man,  may  be  exhibited,  in  the  dexterity  with  which 
he  makes  his  way  in  a  crowded  city,  by  his  hearing  and 
touch ; — and  yet,  after  all,  hearing  and  touch,  however 
highly  cultivated,  are,  in  such  a  case,  but  an  imperfect  sub- 
stitute for  vision. 

Now,  we  must,  in  the  intellectual  sciences,  with  minds 
circumscribed  as  ours  are,  be  content  to  penetrate  the  bound- 
less field  before  us,  only  in  a  narrow  path  like  this,  passing 
on  in  it  from  step  to  step  by  cautious  ratiocination.  And  we 
can  bring  our  pupil  to  any  point  which  we  have  ourselves 
attained,  only  by  leading  him  cautiously  over  all  the  previ- 
ous steps  by  which  we  had  attained  it.  But  it  is  not  so  with 
moral  truth.  Each  subordinate  portion  seems  to  bring  with 
it  its  own  testimony,  and  to  stand  independent  of  the  rest. 
There  are  a  thousand  connections,  it  is  true,  by  which  all  the 
parts  are  blended  into  one  harmonious  whole,  but  each  carries 
its  own  evidence  within  itself,  and  needs  only  to  be  appre- 
hended, in  order  to  be  believed. 

This  would  be  true  without  limitation  or  exception,  were 


INSTRUCTION.  351 


Apparent  exceptions.  Proof  of  Christianity. 

it  not  for  the  influence  of  passion  and  sin  which  produce 
moral  blindness,  and  cut  off  the  view  of  moral  truth  from  the 
soul.  The  very  way,  however,  by  which  these  operate,  in 
shutting  any  moral  principles  from  the  mind,  illustrates  what 
we  have  said  ;  for  they  produce  these  effects,  not  by  incapaci- 
tating the  mind  from  following  any  trains  of  reasoning  by 
which  the  principles  might  be  sustained,  but  by  rendering  it 
insensible  to  their  intrinsic  excellence  and  beauty.  Our  great 
work,  therefore,  is,  as  we  have  said  often  before,  to  present 
truth,  rather  than  to  prove  it  to  man.  We  are  to  gain  ac- 
cess for  it,  around,  or  under,  or  over,  or  through,  the  prejudices 
and  sins  which  oppose  its  admission  ; — then  we  are  to  pre- 
sent it  in  its  own  intrinsic  excellence  and  beauty,  and  exhibit 
it  in  its  details  and  in  its  applications,  confident  that  if  it  is 
perceived,  it  will  commend  itself,  and  be  established  by  its 
own  intrinsic  character,  rather  than  by  any  train  of  ratioci- 
nation by  which  it  may  be  shown  to  result  logically  from 
established  principles. 

This  is  true  in  regard  to  a  great  many  cases  which  might, 
at  first,  appear  as  exceptions.  There  is,  for  example,  the 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity.  We  are  accustomed 
to  see  it  presented  in  a  well-connected  train  of  argument, 
which  proceeds  from  what  is  admitted  as  a  system  of  prem- 
ises, to  the  result  finally  arrived  at  as  conclusion.  But  in 
point  of  fact,  we  shall  generally  find,  that  though  such  an 
argument  may  be  constructed,  it  is  not  the  force  which  such 
a  train  of  reasoning  exercises  that  generally  determines  the 
faith  of  Christians,  nor  does  it  materially  affect  that  faith. 
The  true  ground  on  which  Christianity  is  received,  where  it 
is  really  received,  is  a  perception  of  its  moral  features,  by  a 
mind  spiritually  sensible  of  them.  It  commends  itself  to  the 
moral  wants  of  the  soul,  and  where  these  moral  wants  are 
felt,  Christianity  is  received  by  a  process  much  shorter  than 
Lardner's.  In  other  cases,  Christianity  is  not  really  be- 


352  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Proof  by  experiment.  Illustrations. 

lieved.  The  education  or  the  habits  of  the  individual  may 
be  such  that  he  does  not  choose  to  deny  its  truth,  but  he  does 
not  really  receive  it.  The  argument,  at  any  rate,  does  not 
convince  him.  If,  in  any  case,  it  seems  to  have  some  effect, 
it  is  mainly  by  its  moral  influence  in  bringing  the  claims  of 
religion  in  their  true  character,  fairly  before  the  mind. 

It  is  in  accordance  with  this  view  of  the  subject,  that  the 
various  illustrations  with  which  this  work  and  its  predeces- 
sors abound,  are  given  to  the  reader.  They  are  offered,  not 
as  arguments,  but  simply  as  aids  to  apprehension,  in  cases 
where  the  thought,  if  apprehended,  will  commend  itself. 
Facts  may  be  sometimes  stated  as  evidence  ;  as  for  example, 
when  a  chemist  informs  us  that  he  subjected  silex  to  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  heat,  and  it  was  fused.  If  we  believe  his 
testimony,  we  learn,  from  his  statement  of  the  fact,  that  silex 
is  fusible  at  the  specified  temperature.  In  such  a  case  every 
thing  depends  on  the  authority  of  the  observer,  and  this  on 
the  accuracy  and  faithfulness  of  his  observations.  We  know 
nothing  about  the  subject,  except  what  he  informs  us.  There 
is  no  intrinsic  evidence  in  the  case  ;  and  all  the  value  of  the 
chemist's  information  depends  upon  the  fusion  having  actual- 
ly taken  place  in  that  particular  instance,  and  under  the 
circumstances  describedi  But  an  illustration  of  any  moral 
principle,  though  in  the  form  of  a  reported  fact,  is  altogether 
different  in  its  nature.  Take,  for  instance,  the  story  of  the 
boys  on  the  ice,  to  illustrate  the  nature  and  effects  of  sin  and 
confession,  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Young  Christian.  Its 
object  is  not  to  prove  that  sin  will  burden  the  mind,  and 
confession  relieve  it,  from  the  result  of  the  experiment  in  that 
one  case.  Its  object  is  not  to  prove  the  truth,  but  only  to 
make  a  clear  exhibition  of  it.  For  its  reception,  we  rely  on 
a  testimony  in  its  favor  in  the  mind  of  every  reader.  So 
that  the  appeal  is  not  to  the  authority  of  experiment,  but  to 
the  authority  of  every  man's  consciousness,  in  respect  to  the 


INSTRUCTION.  35S 


Difficulty  of  sound  induction. 


operation  of  moral  causes  upon  the  human  mind.  It  fol- 
lows, therefore,  that  while  in  the  chemical  example,  we  must 
have  the  most  unquestionable  evidence  that  the  experiment 
was  actually  performed,  and  performed  as  exactly  reported, 
— in  the  moral  one,  it  is  of  no  consequence  whether  it  was 
or  was  not  ever  performed  at  all.  An  illustration  of  a  moral 
principle  or  truth,  intended  only  to  exhibit  something  which 
is  to  prove  itself  when  exhibited,  if  it  is  true  to  human  na- 
ture, may  be  as  well  imaginary  as  real ;  for  it  is  evidently  of 
no  consequence,  whether  the  occurrence  described  ever  took 
place  or  not,  provided  that  its  only  object  is  to  bring  before 
the  mind,  the  elements  or  materials  upon  which  the  mind  is 
afterward  left  at  liberty  to  judge. 

Moral  truth  may,  indeed,  sometimes  be  proved  by  the 
adduction  of  facts, — results  of  experiment.  But  this  is  a 
very  slow  and  toilsome  process.  "  Facts,"  it  is  said,  by  a 
common  proverb,  "  are  stubborn  things  :"  to  this,  it  has  been 
very  properly  replied,  that  they  are  the  most  pliant,  flexible, 
uncertain  things  that  the  human  intellect  has  to  deal  with. 
Even  in  the  physical  world  it  is  far  more  difficult  than  is 
ordinarily  imagined,  to  establish  any  truth  by  a  legitimate 
induction.  Do  the  various  positions  of  the  moon,  in  her 
monthly  revolution,  affect  the  changes  of  the  weather  ?  To 
settle  such  a  question,  by  a  series  of  observations  made  with 
such  accuracy,  and  perseverance,  and  care  as  really  to  settle 
it,  will  require  a  vigilance  and  a  labor  which  those  who 
are  not  accustomed  to  philosophical  inquiries  would  be 
slow  to  anticipate.  But  in  the  moral  world  the  difficulty  is 
incomparably  greater ;  and  though  it  is  very  often  the  case 
that  writers  attempt  to  prove  the  wisdom  of  plans,  or  the 
efficacy  of  measures,  for  the  promotion  of  piety,  by  an  induc- 
tion of  facts,  to  prove  their  success  on  experiment, — yet  these 
facts  are  seldom  sufficient  to  establish  the  point,  according 
to  the  principles  of  philosophical  induction. 


354  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Truth  accessible.  Arguing  with  error.  First  case. 

It  is  pleasant  to  reflect  how  close  at  hand,  God  has  placed 
all  the  moral  and  religious  truth  necessary  for  human  salva- 
tion. If  labored  reasoning  had  been  necessary  to  establish  it, 
how  many  millions,  even  in  a  civilized  and  Christian  land, 
must  have  lived  and  died  in  hopeless  ignorance  ;  but  God  has 
provided  better  for  the  wants  and  dangers  of  humanity.  He 
has  so  adapted  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind  to  the 
immutable  and  eternal  principles  of  right  and  wrong,  that 
our  great  work  is  simply  to  manifest  them,  in  order  to  have 
them  received  ;  and  where  they  are  rejected,  it  is  sin,  not  in- 
tellectual incapacity,  that  causes  their  exclusion. 

5.  Attempts  to  remove  error  by  argument  or  personal  con- 
troversy, aje  almost  always  in  vain. 

Sometimes  when  we  argue,  we  are  not  arguing  with  error 
at  all.  We  aim  directly  at  the  establishment  of  the  truth, 
and  that  without  supposing  in  our  hearer  any  tendency  to 
error.  As  when,  for  example,  one  young  man  presents  to 
another,  in  a  walk,  the  evidence  in  favor  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  which  he  may  have  collected  ;  not  as  a  means  of 
combating  his  companion's  errors,  but  of  confirming  and 
establishing  his  belief  of  the  truth.  Parents  often  thus  ar- 
gue with  their  children,  and  pastors  with  their  people.  They 
attempt  to  prove  the  truth,  feeling  all  the  time  that  their 
hearers  go  along  with  them  easily,  wishing  to  have  it  proved. 
It  is  obvious  that  there  are  few  dangers  or  difficulties  here. 
The  speakers  and  hearers  are  agreed.  They  are  traveling  a 
road  which  they  all  wish  to  travel ;  the  followers  looking  up 
to  the  leader  as  a  guide.  Under  such  circumstances,  there 
must  be  some  extraordinary  clumsiness  or  infelicity,  to  create 
any  difficulty  by  the  way. 

Again,  in  other  cases,  we  argue  not  for  the  truth,  but 
against  error, — our  hearers,  however,  being,  as  before,  unbi- 


INSTRUCTION. 


Second  case.  Third  case. 

ased,  and  willing  to  be  led  wherever  our  arguments  may 
carry  them.  Here  there  is  a  little  greater  danger  than  in  the 
other  case,  for  error  is  dangerous  to  meddle  with  in  any  way. 
First,  there  is  danger  that  our  mere  statement  of  the  error 
will  introduce  it ;  in  accordance  with  the  principle  that  we 
have  often  alluded  to,  in  the  course  of  this  work,  that  state- 
ments have  more  influence  generally  upon  the  human  mind 
than  reasoning.  An  idea  presented  will  often  enter  and  re- 
main, bidding  defiance  to  all  the  exorcisms  of  argument  and 
appeal,  by  which  the  introducer  of  it  in  vain  attempts  to  get 
it  out  again.  Then,  also,  by  the  violence  with  which  we 
assail  an  opinion  and  its  advocates,  we  may  create  a  sym- 
pathy in  their  favor,  and  lead  our  hearers  to  take  their  side  ; 
—on  the  principle  which  leads  us  often  to  take  part  with  the 
absent  and  undefended,  whether  right  or  wrong.  Thus, 
while  we  imagine  that  our  hearers  are  admiring  the  havoc 
which  our  intellectual  cannon  is  making  in  the  battlements 
of  the  enemy,  they  are  in  fact,  secretly  stealing  over  to  the 
aid  of  the  fortress  assailed.  In  these  and  in  similar  ways, 
we  may,  while  combating  error,  enlist  some  of  the  feelings 
of  human  nature  in  its  favor, — feelings  stronger  than  allegi- 
ance to  logic  and  reasoning.  These  dangers,  however,  serious 
as  they  are,  we  must  not  now  dwell  upon,  but  pass  to  a 
third  case. 

We  sometimes  argue  directly  with  those  holding  erroneous 
opinions.  This  is  what  we  intended  by  the  phrase,  "  at- 
tempting to  remove  error  by  argument,"  placed  at  the  head 
of  this  part  of  the  chapter.  Here  lies  the  great  difficulty 
and  danger.  The  attempt  to  convince  man  of  error  in  the 
most  delicate  and  hazardous  of  all  the  modes  of  action  of 
mind  upon  mind.  By  saying  it  is  delicate,  I  do  not  mean 
that  it  is  a  nice  operation.  The  forces  are  not  small  and 
weak,  requiring  nice  attention  and  adjustment  to  develop 
them.  They  are,  on  the  contrary,  great  and  uncontrollable. 


356  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Great  forces  to  be  overcome.  Dangers. 

There  is  the  mighty  power  of  truth,  on.  one  side,  and  the  still 
mightier  power  of  error,  on  the  other.  There  is  habit  with 
its  iron  chain,  and  prejudice  and  passion  with  their  swift 
current,  and  pride  with  its  strong  walls,  and  falsehood  and 
inconsistency  like  heaps  of  ruhhish.  These  you  have  to  over- 
come and  remove.  You  have  indeed,  on  your  side,  the  clear 
and  silent  light  of  reason,  and  the  voice  of  conscience, — 
powerful  enough  to  conquer  any  thing  else ;  but  pride,  and 
passion,  and  habit  will  conquer  them. 

When  the  speaker  has  a  willing  auditor  his  work  is  easy ; 
but  when  he  has  one  to  lead  along  in  a  way  in  which  he 
does  not  wish  to  go,  the  work  is  all  but  hopeless.  Estab- 
lished opinions  are,  indeed,  sometimes  changed, — but  not 
often  by  reasoning.  New  associations, — the  slow  influence 
of  altered  circumstances, — the  change  effected  in  the  whole 
character  of  the  soul,  by  real  conviction  of  sin, — these  and 
similar  causes,  affecting  the  feelings  more  than  the  reasoning 
powers,  often  subdue  pride,  and  break  down  obstinacy  and 
undermine  long-established  errors.  And  so  does,  sometimes, 
it  must  be  acknowledged,  the  power  of  naked  reasoning  ; — 
sometimes, — but  yet  seldom. 

Still,  there  are  many  cases  where  argument  helps  and 
hastens  the  abandonment  of  error.  Perhaps,  however,  it  as 
often  only  confirms  its  dominion.  And  yet  many  persons, 
especially  the  young,  are  eager  to  engage  in  it.  Experience 
generally  gives  us  more  sober  expectations  of  success  from  it, 
but  in  early  life  we  are  always  ready  for  the  combat.  By 
faithfully  studying  and  understanding  and  adopting  the  fol- 
lowing principles,  our  readers  will  avoid  many  of  the  dangers 
of  such  conflicts,  and  will  somewhat  increase  the  faint  hopes 
of  success. 

(1.)  Understand  fully  the  position  taken  by  the  friend 
whose  errors  you  wish  to  correct.  You  must,  to  do  this,  go 
to  him  as  it  were,  and  see  with  his  eyes.  Remember  that 


INSTRUCTION. 


357 


Practical  directions. 


The  strange  light. 


error  appears  reasonable  to  all  who  embrace  it.  It  is  a  fal- 
lacious reasonableness,  I  grant,  but  it  appears  real.  Now 
you  must  see  this  fallacious  reasonableness  yourself,  or  you 
can  not  understand  the  light  in  which  the  subject  stands,  in 
the  mind  which  you  are  endeavoring  to  reach.  If,  instead 
of  this,  we  keep  at  a  distance,  and  fulminate  expressions  of 
reprobation  at  a  man's  errors,  and  of  astonishment  at  his 
inconsistency  and  wickedness  in  holding  them,  we  may  grat- 
ify our  own  censoriousness  and  spiritual  pride,  but  can  do  him 
no  good. 


"  Father,"  says  a  little  child  sitting  on  his  footstool  by  the 
fireside,  on  a  winter  evening :  "  Father,  I  see  a  light,  a 
strange  light  out  the  window,  over  across  the  road." 

"  Nonsense,  you  silly  child,  there  is  no  house  across  the 
road,  and  there  can  be  no  light  there  at  this  time  of  night." 


358  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Two  ways  of  combating  error. 


"  But  I  certainly  see  one,  father,  a  large  bright  light." 

"  No  such  thing,"  insists  the  father.  "  It  can  not  be  so. 
There  is  nothing  over  there  that  can  burn.  I  can  see  out  of 
the  window  myself,  and  it  is  all  a  white  field  of  snow." 

This  is  one  way  of  combating  error.  The  boy  is  silenced, 
not  convinced  ;  and  were  he  not  awed  by  parental  authority, 
he  would  not  even  be  silenced. 

"Where?"  says  another  father,  in  a  similar  case.  And 
though  from  his  own  chair,  he  can  see  the  field,  across  the 
road,  he  goes  to  the  child,  and  putting  his  eye  close  to  hia 
son's,  says,  "  Where  ? — let  me  see  ?" 

"  Ah,  I  see  it : — well,  now,  walk  slowly  with  me,  up  to 
the  window." 

Thus  he  leads  the  boy  up  and  shows  him  the  grounds  of 
his  illusion,  in  a  reflection  of  the  fire  from  a  pane  of  glass. 

Now,  this  is  the  proper  way  of  correcting  error.  You 
must  first  see  it,  as  the  friend  whose  opinions  you  wish  to 
correct,  sees  it.  It  has  its  specious  appearances.  There  are 
positions  toward  which  it  presents  reasonable,  though  falla- 
cious aspects.  Now  you  can  do  your  friend  no  good,  you 
can  not  sympathize  with  him,  you  can  not  understand  him, 
you  can  not  advance  a  step  in  reasoning  with  him,  unless 
you  first  go  and  put  your  intellectual  eye  where  his  is. 

It  is  no  matter  what  the  opinions  are  against  which  you 
contend,  you  can  not  contend  against  them  to  advantage, 
unless  you  understand  them,  and  you  can  not  really  under- 
stand them  unless  you  perceive  them  as  they  are  perceived 
by  the  mind  which  they  possess.  If  you  do  not  perceive 
them  thus,  it  is  in  fact  something  else  that  you  perceive. 
If  any  opinion  seems  to  you  preposterous  and  absurd,  and 
only  such,  the  probability  is  that  you  could  do  no  good  to  the 
individual  who  holds  it,  by  discussion ;  for  it  is  plain  that  it 
does  not  appear  preposterous  and  absurd  to  him,  and,  there- 
fore, the  perception  which  you  attack  is  not  the  one  which 


INSTRUCTION.  359 


Collisions.  Misunderstandings.  Sympathy. 

he  maintains.  It  may  be  the  same  in  name,  and  somewhat 
the  same  in  substance  ;  but  in  all  those  aspects  and  relations 
of  it  which  constitute  its  life,  and  give  it  its  hold  upon  him, 
it  is  different  to  you  from  what  it  is  to  him ;  and  your  dis- 
cussion will  be  an  angry  dispute,  in  which  neither  will 
understand  the  other. 

If,  therefore,  a  young  man,  in  referring  to  any  error,  as 
Atheism,  or  Deism,  or  disbelief  in  a  judgment  to  come, 
says,  "  It  seems  utterly  astonishing  to  me,  that  any  one  can 
believe  such  an  error.  I  do  not  see  what  he  can  possibly 
say.  I  should  like  to  meet  with  one,  holding  it ;  it  seems  to 
me  I  could  show  him  his  mistake :" — if,  I  say,  he  speaks 
thus!  it  is  pretty  safe  to  infer  that  he  would  act  most  wisely 
by  letting  the  error  alone.  He  does  not  understand  it.  In 
a  discussion  he  would  not  make  the  slightest  progress. 
There  would  be  a  violent  collision  between  him  and  his 
unbelieving  opponent,  from  which  he  would  recoil  in  a  sort 
of  maze,  like  a  moth  from  a  candle-. 

If  he  says,  however, — "  I  do  not  think  it  surprising  that 
such  a  man  should  be  a  Deist.  Considering  his  education, 
his  associates,  and  the  position  which  he  occupies,  I  can  see 
easily  how  the  subject  of  revealed  religion  should  present 
itself  in  such  a  way  to  his  mind  as  to  lead  him  to  disbelieve 
it ;" — if  he  says  that,  there  is  a  little  more  hope.  There  is 
some  ground  for  sympathy  between  himself  and  his  opponent. 
The  discussion  can  have  a  beginning  ;  and  if  there  can  ever 
be  hope  of  any  progress,  it  is  in  such  a  case. 

No  one,  therefore,  can  be  qualified  to  attempt  to  lead  any 
soul  out  of  its  errors,  but  by  first  going  to  it,  in  them. 
You  must  understand  and  appreciate  the  subject  on  which 
men  err,  as  it  presents  itself  to  their  minds.  Perhaps  you 
will  shrink  from  doing  this.  It  requires  you,  you  will  say, 
for  the  time  being,  to  go  over  to  the  side  of  error,  and  look 
upon  it  with  favorable  eyes,  and  this  is  dangerous.  It  is, 


360  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Effects  of  disputation.  Exaggeration. 

perhaps,  the  most  dangerous  work  which  we  can  engage  in  ; 
and  if  the  reader  should  consider  his  hope  of  bringing  any 
persons  out  of  the  wilds  of  error,  too  feeble  to  justify  his 
incurring  the  hazard  of  going  there  after  them, — to  be  lost, 
perhaps,  himself, — I  should  most  sincerely  approve  of  his 
caution.  But  then,  if  he  is  deterred  by  this  danger  from 
qualifying  himself  suitably  for  the  work,  he  must  not  under- 
take it.  He  can  do  nothing  but  exhaust  and  irritate  him- 
self, and  fix  his  friend  in  his  delusions  by  attempting  to 
argue  without  this  qualification. 

(2.)  You  must  not  only  go  to  the  intellectual  position, 
which  your  friend  occupies,  in  order  to  begin  the  discussion, 
but  you  must  keep  with  him  all  the  way.  You  draw  him 
out,  as  the  magnet  draws  out  the  iron,  by  keeping  in  contact, 
— the  moment  you  break  from  him,  you  lose  him.  You  can 
do  nothing  at  a  distance,  for  arguments  have  little  weight, 
unless  the  heart  is  open  to  receive  them  ;  and  candor,  good- 
humor,  and  intellectual  sympathy  are  necessary  in  order  to 
keep  the  heart  open. 

Now  it  is  very  hard  to  avoid  an  immediate  rupture,  the 
moment  you  enter  into  conversation  with  a  friend  upon  a 
subject  on  which  you  disagree.  The  course  of  things  gene- 
rally, is,  that  as  soon  as  any  thing  like  discussion  is  com- 
menced, each  party  recedes  as  far  as  possible  from  the  other, 
and  by  exaggeration,  and  over-statement,  and  pressing  to  ex- 
tremes, they  get  to  as  great  a  distance  from  each  other  as  they 
can,  and  from  these  positions  which  they  have  respectively 
taken,  they  cannonade  one  another  with  merciless  violence, 
each  gravely  expecting  to  drive  the  other  over  to  himself. 
In  some  cases  of  moral  intercourse  between  mind  and  mind 
there  may  properly  be  a  separation, — a  want  of  sympathy  ; 
as  where  a  man  is  rebuked  for  a  known  and  admitted  sin, 
or  denounced  for  opinions  which  carry  on  the  face  of  them 
their  own  condemnation,  and  are,  in  fact,  only  pretended 


INSTRUCTION.  361 


Defending  error,  and  its  effects. 


opinions,  assumed  for  selfish  purposes.  But  where  there  is 
real  error,  where  the  mind  is  really  deceived,  you  must  go  to 
it,  and  lead  it  out ;  you  must  keep  with  it  all  the  way.  If 
you  break  from  it,  it  falls  back  again  into  a  worse  position 
than  before. 

To  avoid  this  losing  of  your  hold  upon  the  mind  which 
you  are  attempting  to  convince  of  its  errors,  you  must  not 
overstate  any  fact,  or  exaggerate  the  force  of  any  considera- 
tion which  is  in  your  favor,  nor  underrate  any  thing  which 
your  antagonist  may  advance.  Be  honest  and  candid.  Ad- 
mit the  force  of  his  objections  and  difficulties ;  listen  atten- 
tively to  what  he  says,  not  as  a  mere  matter  of  civility,  but 
from  an  honest  desire  to  know  exactly  how  the  subject  stands 
in  his  mind.  Bo  not  be  in  haste  to  reply  to  what  he  says, 
but  admit  its  force,  and  take  it  into  consideration.  Thus  he 
will  perceive  that  your  object  is  not  victory,  but  truth ;  and 
as  you  show  yourself  willing  to  look  candidly  at  the  whole 
subject,  he  will,  by  sympathy,  catch  the  same  spirit,  and  you 
will  thus  go  on  together.  As  long  as  you  can  thus  keep 
together,  you  may  perhaps  advance,  but  the  moment  you 
separate  from  each  other  he  falls  back,  and  your  hold  over 
him  is  gone. 

(3.)  Avoid  arousing  your  friend,  by  opposition,  to  take 
ground  in  defense  of  his  opinions.  If  you  wish  to  fix  a  man 
most  firmly  on  either  side  of  any  question,  the  surest  way  is 
to  give  him  that  side  to  defend.  Hence  the  great  danger 
and  evil  of  discussions ;  they  become  disputes,  and  make 
each  party  more  fixed  and  obstinate  than  before.  Avoid, 
therefore,  putting  your  friend  upon  his  defense,  or  making  an 
antagonist  of  him.  You  can  do  nothing  with  an  antagonist. 
If  he  adduces  an  argument  or  states  a  fact,  do  not  reply  to  it, 
or  contradict  it ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  by  an  honest  ques- 
tion or  two  draw  it  out  more  fully,  so  as  completely  to  pos- 
sess yourself  of  it,  as  it  stands  in  his  mind.  If  it  is  weak,  dn 

a 


362  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Deal  in  great  arguments,  not  in  minute  details. 

not  make  him  think  it  strong  by  putting  him  on  the  defense 
of  it.  If  it  is  strong,  do  not  impress  it  upon  his  memory,  and 
.  give  it  an  undue  importance,  by  arguing  about  it.  In  either 
case,  trust  to  the  great  leading  considerations  which  you 
have  to  adduce  on  the  other  side,  as  the  means  of  over- 
coming its  influence.  With  the  greatest  circumspection, 
you  will  find  it  all  but  impossible  to  prevent  your  conversa- 
tion degenerating  into  a  dispute.  You  may  read  and  under- 
stand these  principles  now,  and  admit  their  reasonableness. 
But  when  you  come  to  apply  them,  you  will  find  an  almost 
insurmountable  difficulty.  In  fact  the  reader  will  be  very 
likely  to  say,  while  reading  these  paragraphs,  that  the  rules 
are  very  good  in  theory,  but  impossible  to  be  followed  in 
practice.  I  grant  it.  Or  at  least,  I  allow  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  follow  them, — it  is  certainly  almost  impossible, 
in  endeavoring  to  convince  a  friend  of  the  erroneousness  of 
his  opinions,  or  avoid  arousing  him  to  a  resolute  defense  of 
them.  This  is  true,  no  doubt,  and  it  is  only  saying  that  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  do  any  good  by  reasoning  with  people 
about  their  errors. 

(4.)  Make  it  your  great  object  to  present  to  your  friend, 
and  to  keep  before  his  mind,  the  few  great  leading  consider- 
ations on  which  the  evidence  of  the  truth  must  rest,  and  not 
to  discuss  with  him  the  details,  and  diificulties  and  objec- 
tions which  cluster-  around  every  great  subject.  It  is  the 
influence  of  a  few  great  considerations  which  determine  the 
conviction  of  the  mind  in  all  cases.  The  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity, for  instance,  rests  in  the  mass  of  minds,  on  its  great, 
visible,  moral  effects,  and  not  on  the  details  of  that  com- 
plicated argument  which  researches  into'  its  history  have 
furnished, — nor  on  the  possession  of  satisfactory  answers  to 
the  thousand  objections  which  have  been  advanced.  It  is, 
indeed,  very  important  to  possess  these  answers.  There  are 
certain  occasions  and  certain  purposes,  for  which  they  are 


INSTRUCTION.  363 


Difficulties.  Course  to  pursue. 

essentially  important.  But  in  such  discussions  as  we  are 
speaking  of  here,  the  more  exclusively  the  mind  that  is  wrong 
is  brought  to  look  upon  the  great  leading  considerations 
which  establish  the  truth,  the  better. 

We  are  very  prone  to  overrate  the  extent  to  which  it  is 
necessary  that  the  many  difficulties  and  objections  which  can 
be  raised  against  the  truth,  should  be  met  and  answered. 
They  must,  to  some  extent,  remain.  The  mind  is  full  of 
them  on  every  subject.  All  truth,  whether  believed  or  dis- 
believed, is  connected  with  difficulties  which  we  can  not 
remove.  The  most  common  doctrines  of  philosophy,  such 
as  that  sound  is  produced  by  aerial  vibrations, — and  that  the 
blood  circulates, — and  that  cold  is  mere  absence  of  heat, — 
and  many  other  most  unquestionable  truths,  are  embarrassed 
with  difficulties  which  it  is  very  difficult  to  solve.  The 
course,  now,  for  a  wise  instructor  to  take  with  his  class,  is 
not  to  call  their  attention  too  much  to  these,  in  vain  attempts 
to  offer  satisfactory  solutions.  This  would  be  the  way  to 
spread  doubt  and  uncertainty  over  their  minds  in  respect  to 
the  whole  subject.  It  will  be  better,  when  first  attempting 
to  inculcate  the  truth,  to  admit  these  difficulties,  and  ac- 
knowledge their  force, — and  then  to  present  the  great  leading 
evidence  which  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  truth,  notwith- 
standing them.  In  religious  discussion  we  should  do  the 
same.  Our  great  object  is  to  bring  forward  the  leading  con- 
siderations which  balance  the  scale  and  determine  conviction  ; 
and  then  to  present  these  to  the  mind,  and  make  as  little 
reply  as  possible  to  the  counter  considerations  adduced  in 
disproof.  Thus  you  gain  a  double  advantage ;  you  secure 
the  presentation  of  what  must  be  the  basis  of  conviction,  if  it 
is  established  at  all,  and  you  avoid  that  most  imminent  of 
all  dangers,  putting  your  friend  upon  the  defense  of  his 
opinions,  which  would  inevitably  confirm  him  in  them. 

These  principles,  if  understood  and  practiced,  will  perhaps 


364  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Faint  hopes  of  success.  Classes  of  reasonera. 

aid  a  little,  but  after  all,  we  can  promise  the  private  Chris- 
tian very  little  success  in  his  efforts  to  do  good  by  reasoning 
with  error.  There  are  a  thousand  difficulties  and  obstructions 
in  the  way  of  gaining  such  an  access  to  the  human  soul. 
There  are  some  minds  that  can  not  argue  nor  appreciate 
argument.  They  seem  to  have  no  powers  of  perception  for 
a  logical  sequence.  They  go  by  authority,  so  far  as  they  are 
influenced  by  others,  and  by  mere  notions,  so  far  as  they 
influence  themselves.  Then  there  are  others  who  will  not 
attend  to  you.  While  you  are  speaking,  they  are  conning  a 
reply,  not  to  what  you  are  saying,  but  to  what  they  have 
heard  said  by  others  before.  Then  there  is  a  third  class,  so 
loose,  and  illogical,  and  irrational  in  all  their  ideas,  that  in 
one  single  sentence  you  hear  uttered  or  implied  errors  enough 
to  lay  you  out  work  for  an  hour,  in  taking  them  up  one  by 
one,  for  examination  and  exposure.  You,  however,  begin 
with  one  ;  but  the  first  sentence  which  you  hear  from  your 
interlocutor  in  regard  to  it,  is  another  shoot  at  random  over 
the  field  of  prejudice  and  error,  and  you  give  up  at  once,  in 
despair.  Another  person  is  so  entirely  away  from  you  in 
sentiment  and  feeling  that  you  can  get  no  common  ground 
to  start  from.  His  ideas,  and  feelings,  and  habits  of  reason- 
ing are  all  diverse  from  yours.  He  lives  in  a  different  moral 
and  intellectual  world,  and  you  can  not  understand  one 
another  at  all.  He  takes  principles  for  granted  that  you 
would  deny,  and  if  you  turn  aside  to  discuss  one  of  them, 
you  take  for  granted,  immediately,  what  he  does  not  admit, 
and  thus  you  have  no  footing.  Then  there  is  pride,  and  the 
power  of  habit,  and  the  influence  of  association,  and  author- 
ity, and  interest,  and  the  bias  of  feelings  averse  to  the  sacri- 
fices which  sound  moral  principle  requires.  When  we 
consider  the  nature  of  these  elements,  we  shall  moderate  our 
ideas  in  respect  to  the  immediate  effects  which  we  can  hope 
to  produce  upon  them.  Truth  and  logic,  with  all  their 


INSTRUCTION.  366 


Way  in  which  human  opinions  are  formed. 


power,  are  proved  to  be  frail  instruments  among  such  mora] 
forces  as  these. 

The  force  of  authority  and  personal  influence  have  a  fai 
greater  control  over  men's  opinions,  and  reason  far  less,  than 
is  generally  imagined.  Suppose,  for  example,  that  for  the 
sake  of  trying  an  experiment  upon  human  mind,  and  testing 
the  real  strength  of  truth,  the  philosophers  of  England  should 
divide  themselves  into  two  parties,  equal  in  talents  and  num- 
bers, and  enter  into  a  controversy,  making  a  question,  for  this 
purpose,  of  some  undoubted  truth.  Let  one  party  maintain, 
for  example,  the  truth  that  the  earth  is  in  motion,  and  the 
other,  the  falsehood,  that  it  is  at  rest.  The  latter  would,  of 
course,  pretend  that  recent  discoveries  and  calculations  had 
overturned  the  long-received  opinions,  and  that,  after  all,  it 
was  proved  that  it  was  the  sun,  not  the  earth  that  revolved. 
We  must  suppose  that  this  latter  party  are  equal  in  talents 
and  standing  and  influence  with  the  others,  and  that  they 
are  believed  to  be  honest  and  sincere,  and  that  they  main- 
tain their  cause  with  the  same  industry  in  arraying  the  facts 
which  seem  to  favor  their  theory,  and  in  fabricating  inge- 
nious arguments  which  should  exhibit  the  appearance  of 
mathematical  reasoning.  Suppose  the  discussion  to  go  on 
for  half  a  century,  what  would  be  the  result  ?  "  Why,  every 
man,"  you  would  at  once  reply,  "of  any  intelligence  and 
understanding,  who  would  devote  any  proper  attention  to  the 
subject,  would  be  brought  to  the,  right  side.  The  evidence 
for  the  truth  in  this  case,  is  overwhelming."  Admit  it.  But 
what  percentage  of  the  whole  mass  of  any  people  are  men 
of  intelligence  and  understanding  ?  and  what  percentage  of 
those  would  have  paid  such  attention  to  the  subject,  as  to 
separate  for  themselves  truth  from  falsehood,  and  to  form  an 
independent  judgment  of  the  case,  and  see  distinctly  the 
solidity  of  the  arguments  for  the  truth,  and  the  fallacy  of 
those  for  the  error  ?  A  very  small  one.  The  result  would 


366  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Result  of  the  discussion.  Grounds  of  human  belief. 

probably  be,  that  the  mass  of  the  people  would  be  divided 
between  the  contending  parties,  pretty  nearly  in  proportion 
to  the  numbers  and  standing  and  personal  influence  and 
popularity  of  the  respective  leaders  ;  and  the  termination  of 
the  experiment  would  show  that  the  opinions  of  mankind  on 
almost  any  subject  which  they  hear  discussed,  and  on  whicli 
they  seem  to  form  a  judgment  independently,  rest,  after  all, 
upon  the  weight  of  authority,  and  not  upon  the  perceived 
conclusiveness  of  the  reasonings. 

It  is  true,  that  on  subjects  of  mathematical  and  physical 
science,  where  there  is,  in  a  general  view  of  the  great  mass 
of  mind,  no  leading  bias  one  way  or  the  other,  there  can  not 
be,  for  a  long  time,  any  such  division  of  authority,  as  we 
have  supposed  in  this  imaginary  case.  The  force  of  the 
argument  will  compel  unanimity  among  leaders,  and  then 
the  influence  of  authority  will  secure  the  unanimity  of  the 
rest.  But  in  moral  subjects,  this  is  not  so.  Take  such  a 
question  as  the- true  character  and  desert  of  Napoleon  Buon- 
aparte. The  moral  argument  here  will  not  enforce  una- 
nimity among  the  leaders  of  mind,  and  the  followers,  swayed 
by  the  opinions,  or  the  representations,  or  the  personal  influ- 
ence of  those  to  whom  they  are  accustomed  to  defer,  will  be 
divided  too. 

We  can  not  trust,  then,  in  the  expectation  that  truth  will, 
in  a  world  like  this,  necessarily  make  her  way  by  our  simply 
arming  her  with  intellectual  weapons,  and  sending  her  out 
to  fight  against  error.  The  result  of  such  conflicts  will 
generally  depend  more  upon  the  ability  of  the  advocate,  or 
rather  upon  his  personal  influence,  than  upon  the  goodness 
of  the  cause. 

I  ought,  however,  perhaps,  to  say  in  conclusion,  though  it 
may  be  scarcely  necessary,  that  this  chapter  relates  mainly  to 
personal  discussion  between  private  Christians  in  the  ordinary 
walks  of  life,  and  not  to  controversy  among  leading  minds 


INSTRUCTION.  367 


The  way  to  spread  the  truth.  Infidelity. 

advocating  diverse  opinions  before  the  public,  for  the  purpose 
of  eliciting  truth  by  discussion,  or  placing  on  record  argu- 
ments to  sustain  it.  This  public  controversy  has  its  difficul- 
ties and  dangers,  immense  and  great,  but  this  is  not  the  place 
to  exhibit  them.  The  sphere  of  influence  in  which  this  book 
is  intended  to  move,  is  a  different  one  altogether.  In  that 
sphere  there  can  be  no  question  that  disputation  should  hold 
but  a  very  low  rank  among  the  means  of  doing  good.  Our 
means  of  promoting  the  spread  of  Christianity  is  not  to  effect 
triumphs  for  it  in  debate,  but  to  spread  its  gentle  and  noise- 
less influence.  We  are  to  exhibit  it  in  our  lives,  we  are  to 
explain,  and  enforce,  and  exemplify  its  duties.  We  are  to 
express  its  principles,  and  gain,  by  every  means  in  our  power, 
an  influence  for  them  among  our  fellow-men.  Thus  the 
rigidity  of  argumentative  disputation  will  be  relaxed,  and  the 
moral  influence  of  an  alluring  exhibition  of  the  principles  and 
duties  of  piety,  will  find  an  easy  way  where  the  most  severe 
and  scientific  theological  arguments  for  the  truth,  and  refu- 
tations the  most  triumphant  of  error,  would  find  every  access 
barred  and  impregnable. 

These  remarks  apply  with  peculiar  force  to  infidelity.  It 
prevails  to  a  vast  extent  in  the  world,  and  must,  for  some 
time  to  come,  continue  to  prevail ;  and  although  the  proof 
of  the  truth  ought  to  be  constantly  before  the  community, 
so  as  to  be  accessible  to  every  mind,  yet  to  rely  upon  the 
logical  force  of  arguments,  as  the  main  instrument  for  the 
expulsion  of  infidelity,  is  to  mistake  altogether  the  nature  of 
its  power.  Infidelity,  as  it  has  generally  shown  itself  in  this 
world,  is  not  candid  philosophical  doubting  of  the  mind  ;  it  is 
rejection  by  the  heart.  Its  strength  is  not  in  its  reasonings, 
but  in  its  spirit.  It  is  dislike  to  God,  to  penitence,  humility, 
communion  with  heaven.  It  is  love  of  this  world,  and  of  sin, 
;md  a  determination  to  go  on  in  its  own  way,  without  fear  of 
a  judgment  to  come.  It  is  a  spirit  of  hostility  to  God,  and  to 


368  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Spirit  of  infidelity.  Voltaire. 

his  reign,  and  a  determination  not  to  submit  to  it.  Now 
such  a  spirit,  logic  and  reasoning  can  never  change, — they 
do  not  even  tend  to  change  it. 

The  spirit  of  infidelity  ; — the  lofty  genius  of  Voltaire  has 
embalmed  and  preserved  its  deformed  and  malignant  visage, 
for  all  time,  and  we  fear  that  his  wretched  soul  will  find  that 
he  has  done  it  for  all  eternity  too,  by  his  famous  watchword, 
"  Crush  the  wretch,"  applied  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Read 
the  Savior's  life, — consider  his  character,  his  mild  unoffend- 
ing, gentle  spirit, — his  labors  for  the  good  of  his  race, — his 
patience,  his  forgiveness, — his  cruel  wrongs,  and  the  submis- 
sive, quiet,  and  unruffled  spirit,  with  which  he  bore  them. 
Read  the  whole  story,  and  think  of  such  words  as  "  Crush 
the  wretch"  applied  to  him.  Oh,  Voltaire,  Voltaire,  sad  in- 
deed must  have  been  the  moral  state  of  the  heart  which 
could  have  been  aroused  to  anger,  by  the  story  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  ;  sad  the  heart  which  could  call  that  homeless  vic- 
tim of  toil,  and  of  patient  suffering  for  others,  a  wretch,  and 
which  could  meet  his  kind  invitations,  by  a  cry  uttered 
forth  to  the  whole  civilized  world,  to  arise  and  crush  him. 
Do  these  malignant  passions  still  burn  in  thy  bosom,  against 
him  who  would  fain  have  saved  thy  soul  ?  We  fear  that 
they  do,  for  the  strength  of  angry  passion  which  sent  forth 
that  defiance,  could  carry  it  but  a  little  way  toward  the  eter- 
nal throne  of  the  J3on  of  God.  The  lapse  of  years  shows  that 
throne  standing  firmer  than  ever,  and  thy  malediction  has 
fallen  back  upon  thine  own  head,  and  thou  thyself  art  the 
crushed  wretch  now,  forever. 


PROPERTY    AS   A   MEANS    OP    DOING    GOOD.  369 

A  false  impression.  Scriptural  authority. 


CHAPTER   XL 

PROPERTY    AS     A     MEANS     OF     DOING     GOOD. 
"The  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich." 

How  far  those  who  may  desire  to  devote  their  lives  to  the 
work  of  doing  good,  will  have  power  to  carry  into  effect  their 
benevolent  wishes  and  plans,  will  depend  very  much  upon 
their  having  right  conceptions  of  the  nature  and  use  of  prop- 
erty as  a  means  of  influence  and  usefulness. 

There  seems  to  he,  in  some  instances,  an  impression,  more 
or  less  distinct  upon  the  minds  of  Christians,  that  the  desire 
to  possess  property,  and  the  vigorous  prosecution  of  plans  and 
efforts  to  ohtain  it,  are  wrong.  This  impression  would  ap- 
pear to  he  derived  in  part  from  passages  and  expressions  in 
the  New  Testament,  intended  to  warn  us  against  the  danger 
of  an  inordinate  love  of  money,  and  in  part,  perhaps,  from  the 
example  of  the  apostles  and  the  early  Christians,  who  mani 
fested  certainly  a  great  indifference  in  respect  to  the  acquisi- 
tion of  property.  But  however  this  impression  originates,  it 
is  unquestionably  a  wrong  one. 

In  the  first  place,  so  far  as  scriptural  authority  goes,  an 
overwhelming  argument  may  be  adduced  in  favor  of  the  de- 
sirableness of  the  possession  of  wealth.  The  immediate  dis- 
ciples of  our  Savior,  whose  vocation  was,  by  special  appoint- 
ment from  him,  that  of  religious  teachers,  did  not  indeed  seek 
to  acquire  property  ;  and  it  is  unquestionably  best,  as  a  gene- 
ral rule,  that  religious  teachers  should  in  all  ages  of  the 

Q* 


370  TUB   WAY   TO   DO   GOOD. 

The  patriarchs.  Scriptural  view  of  wealth  and  poverty. 

world  follow  their  example  in  this  respect.  Other  holy  men, 
however,  who  are  described  in  the  Scriptures,  men  who  lived 
in  other  ages  of  the  world,  and  who  presented  different  rela- 
tions to  their  fellow-men,  acquired  in  many  instances  great 
possessions.  Abraham  was  a  man  of  great  wealth,  and  the 
efficiency  and  power  of  the  efforts  which  he  made  in  the  ser- 
vice of  God,  were  due  in  a  very  considerable  degree  to  the 
influence  and  consideration  which  his  wealth  gave  him 
among  his  fellow-men. 

In  the  same  manner,  Boaz,  Job,  David,  and  in  fact  all 
the  prominent  characters  in  the  early  history  of  the  church, 
were  men  of  great  wealth,  and  of  high  social  positions.  Sol- 
omon was  the  wealthiest  man  of  his  age  ;  and  the  wise,  and 
prudent,  and  effective  measures  which  he  adopted  to  increase 
and  preserve  his  property,  are  recorded  by  the  sacred  penman 
with  high  commendation. 

Then,  besides  these  historical  examples,  we  find  that  in  the 
didactic  and  preceptive  portions  of  the  sacred  volume,  the 
possession  of  wealth  and  honor  is  invariably  spoken  of  as  a 
good,  and  not  as  an  evil.  They  are  the  rewards  promised  to 
the  righteous, — rewards  which  are  to  inure  to  the  benefit 
both  of  themselves  and  of  all  who  are  connected  with  them, 
-  -while  poverty  is  invariably  spoken  of  as  something  wholly 
undesirable.  It  is  described,  sometimes  indeed  as  a  calamity 
brought  upon  men  in  the  inscrutable  providence  of  God,  but 
generally  as  the  result  of  improvidence  and  sin,  and  always 
as  an  evil.  Men  are  exhorted  to  be  industrious,  diligent,  and 
frugal,  in  order  to  avoid  it ;  and  the  encouragement  and  aid 
of  Divine  Providence  is  promised  to  them  in  the  efforts  which 
th-»y  make,  if  they  make  them  in  the  right  spirit,  to  rise  to 
wealth  and  honor.  In  consideration  of  these  things,  we  are 
compelled  to  conclude  that  when  in  the  New  Testament  the 
lov  e  of  money  seems  to  be  condemned,  it  is  an  inordinate  and 
ej  'essive  love  of  money  that  is  intended  ;  and  that  the  prac- 


PROPERTY   AS   A    MEANS    OF    DOING    GOOD.  371 

Wan  creates  property.  Property  produced  by  the  practice  of  virtue. 

tice  of  the  apostles,  in  leading  lives  of  privation  and  poverty, 
was  not  intended  as  an  example  for  mankind  in  general, 
binding  upon  them  in  all  subsequent  times. 

If,  however,  there  were  no  instructions  on  this  subject  in 
the  Scriptures,  it  would  be  plain  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  that  it  is  every  man's  duty  to  pursue  such  a  course  as 
shall  in  ordinary  cases  result  in  the  accumulation  of  property. 
Property  is  something  that  is  created  by  man.  In  a  state  of 
nature  there  is  no  property.  There  would  be  land  indeed, 
then,  as  now,  but  it  would  not  possess  the  attributes  of  prop- 
erty. It  would  be  in  this  respect  as  water  and  air  are  now, 
which  being  common  to  all,  and  having  no  value  imparted 
to  them  by  human  labors  and  improvements,  do  not  possess 
the  characteristics  of  property. 

Man  then  creates  property.  And  how  does  he  create  it  ? 
By  the  practice  of  virtues.  The  qualities  of  character  and 
action  by  which  property  is  produced  are  industry,  frugality, 
prudence,  temperance,  wisdom.  In  hoarding  property  once 
produced,  and  in  obtaining  it  unjustly  from  others  who  have 
produced  it,  men  are  impelled  often  by  vicious  propensities ; 
but  in  the  production  of  property,  it  is  a  general  rule  that 
only  those  qualities  of  character  and  action  are  involved, 
which  both  reason  and  revelation  continually  inculcate  upon 
all  men.  It  is  the  duty,  therefore,  of  all  men  to  pursue  such 
a  course  as  shall  bring  property  into  their  possession  ; — and 
as  it  is  equally  plain  that  they  must  not  recklessly  dissipate 
and  waste  it,  when  it  is  acquired,  the  doing  of  their  duty  will 
make  them  wealthy. 

These  views  are  greatly  enforced  by  a  consideration  of  the 
immensity  of  the  power  which  is  exercised  by  capital  in  pro- 
moting the  civilization,  the  comfort,  and  the  general  welfare 
of  the  human  race.  If  it  was  doing  good  for  Dorcas  to  make 
a  dozen  garments  for  the  poor  who  lived  in  her  neighborhood, 
it  is  certainly  doing  good  for  a  Manchester  or  a  Lowell  manu- 


372  THE    WAT    TO    DO    GOOD. 


An  illustration.  Cose  of  Dorcas.  Operations  of  business. 


facturer  to  make  fifty  millions  of  such  garments,  and  send 
them  to  clothe  whole  nations  and  tribes  half  round  the 
world.  The  fact  that  Dorcas  gave  her  garments  away  as  a 
matter  of  mere  charity,  while  the  manufacturer  and  mer- 
chant induce  those  whom  they  clothe  to  work  industriously, 
that  they  may  make  a  return  for  theirs,  and  that  this  return 
is  brought  home  by  the  merchant,  and  goes,  in  some  form  or 
other,  to  disseminate  new  and  additional  comforts  among  the 
population  of  his  native  land,  only  shows,  in  another  point, 
the  immense  superiority  of  the  operations  of  business  as  a 
means  of  doing  good  over  those  of  charity. 

The  reader  will  perhaps  say  that  Dorcas  is  impelled  by  a 
kind  and  charitable  motive  in  what  she  does,  while  the  mer- 
chant is  actuated  by  a  selfish  one.  He  sends  comfort  and 
relief  it  is  true,  to  many  millions,  but  he  does  it,  not  for  the 
sake  of  doing  good  to  them,  but  for  the  sake  of  making 
money  for  himself.  Let  us  suppose  this  to  be  true ;  it  still 
shows  only  a  fault  in  the  motive,  and  not  in  the  method. 
The  highest  and  noblest  benevolence  obviously  consists  in 
pursuing  the  most  effectual  measures,  with  the  purest  and 
most  sincere  designs.  If  the  motives  are  wrong  we  must 
make  them  right,  always  retaining  the  methods  which  are 
most  effectual,  and  which  operate  on  the  grandest  scale. 

We  can  imagine  such  a  case  as  this.  A  merchant  in  a 
great  city  owns  fifty  ships,  which  he  employs  continually  in 
sailing  to  and  from  place  to  place  among  the  various  nations 
of  the  earth,  whenever  he  finds  a  want  in  one  region  which 
he  can  supply  by  means  of  a  surplus  which  he  obtains  in 
another.  The  great  function  which  he  fulfills  is  the  trans- 
ferring of  what  is  surplusage  and  useless  in  one  place,  to 
another,  where  it  gives  relief  and  comfort  to  want.  This  is 
essentially  the  very  nature  of  all  mercantile  transactions. 
Now  suppose  that  overlooking  the  real  results  which  his 
operations  accomplish,  and  the  immensity  of  the  scale  on 


PROPERTY    AS    A    MEANS    OF    DOING    GOOD.  373 

Operations  of  charity.  Forming  plans  of  life.  Case  supposed. 

which  he  accomplishes  them, — and  weary  with  what  he 
calls  such  incessant  devotion  to  worldly  affairs,  our  merchant 
were  to  determine  that  he  would  wind  up  his  business,  with- 
draw from  the  world,  and  devote  his  time  for  the  remainder 
of  his  days  to  what  he  would  call  doing  good  among  his 
neighbors,  and  to  the  sick  and  poor  of  his  native  town.  The 
result  would  be  that  he  would  leave  thousands  to  suffer 
inconvenience  and  privation  abroad,  for  every  ten  that  he 
would  supply  and  sustain  at  home.  The  wise  counsel  to  be 
given  to  a  man  in  such  a  situation  as  this,  would  be,  that  he 
should  not  change  his  mode  of  action  at  all,  but  endeavor 
instead  to  infuse  a  Christian  spirit  into  the  principles  and 
rftotives  with  which  he  pursued  it. 

The  case  is  much  the  same,  if  we  go  back  to  ftie  time 
when  the  merchant  was  a  young  man,  and  in  forming  his 
plans  of  life  was  considering  whether  or  not  he  should  aim  at 
the  acquisition  of  property.  Suppose  it  had  then  been  his 
desire  to  devote  his  life  to  the  service  of  God,  in  promoting 
the  welfare  and  happiness  of  his  fellow-men,  and  that  the 
question  before  his  mind  had  been  whether  he  should  engage 
in  active  business,  acquire  capital,  and  devote  himself  ener- 
getically to  the  fulfillment  of  some  great  function  of  social 
life,  or  aim  merely  at  acquiring  a  simple  livelihood  from 
day  to  day,  in  order  that  he  might  devote  his  chief  time  and 
attention  to  the  individual  cases  of  charity.  How  immeas- 
urably less  efficient,  in  promoting  the  welfare  of  man,  would 
the  latter  course  of  procedure  be  than  the  former. 

To  illustrate  these  principles  in  still  another  form,  we  may 
suppose  that  in  a  certain  family  there  are  a  husband  and  a 
wife,  both  truly  benevolent,  and  both  having  hearts  devoted 
to  the  work  of  doing  good.  The  husband  is  a  banker,  and 
his  business  is  to  furnish  funds  to  merchants  to  buy  wheat  in 
the  western  states  of  America,  and  send  it  by  sea  to  those 
quarters  of  the  world  where  it  is  most  needed.  To  simplify  the 


374  THE   WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Husband  and  wife.  The  manufactory  and  the  sewing-circle. 

supposition  we  may  imagine  that  all  his  capital  is  employed 
in  this  particular  operation.  His  wife  is  one  of  the  managers 
of  a  benevolent  society,  the  object  of  which  is  to  furnish 
food  and  clothing  to  the  destitute  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood where  they  dwell.  This  now  is  a  very  worthy  object. 
The  duty  of  providing  for  these  wants  ought  on  no  account  to 
be  neglected.  The  wife  is  accordingly  very  deeply  interested 
in  it.  She  comes  now  to  her  husband  some  morning,  asking 
that  he  will  contribute  a  sum  of  money  to  aid  in  the  objects 
.of  the  society.  He  will  doubtless  gladly  do  it.  Men  of  busi- 
ness are  almost  always  ready  to  join  in  and  aid  any- judicious 
plans  for  the  alleviation  of  present  and  immediate  suffering. 
He  withdraws  a  portion  of  his  capital  from  his  business,  and 
employs  it  for  the  purposes  of  the  society.  This  is  right. 
The  thing  to  be  observed  however  in  the  transaction,  is,  that 
we  are  not  to  consider  such  a  change  in  the  employment  of 
funds  as  rescuing  them  from  mere  worldly  and  selfish  pur- 
poses, and  devoting  them  to  those  that  are  charitable  and 
good.  It  is  on  the  other  hand  only  changing  them  from  one 
mode  of  doing  good  to  another  mode  of  doing  good.  It  is 
depriving  merchants  to  some  extent  of  the  means  of  sending 
food  where  it  is  needed,  in  one  place,  for  the  sake  of  sup- 
plying a  society  of  ladies  with  the  means  of  sending  it 
where  it  is  needed  in  another.  It  is  a  change  which  to  a 
certain  extent,  and  under  certain  circumstances,  ought  un- 
doubtedly to-  be  made ;  but  in  making  it,  it  is  best  that  all 
concerned  should  understand  distinctly  what  the  true  nature 
of  it  is.  Such  changes  may  be  made  injudiciously.  We 
can  conceive  of  circumstances  under  which  a  manufacturer 
might  stop  one  of  his  looms,  for  the  sake  of  employing  the 
funds  in  aid  of  a  sewing-circle  for  the  poor,  and  by  so  doing 
prevent  the  clothing  of  a  great  many  for  the  sake  of  making 
garments  for  the  few. 


PROPERTY   AS   A    MEANS   OF   DOING   GOOD.  376 

Motives  in  business.  Motives  in  acts  of  charity.  The  two  carpenters. 

Giving  money,  or  food,  or  clothing  to  the  poor,  seems,  it  is 
true,  at  first  view,  a  more  kind  and  benevolent  species  of 
action  than  any  of  the  ordinary  operations  of  business  ;  but, 
as  will  be  clearly  seen  by  the  foregoing  remarks,  the  former 
is  far  less  efficient  and  comprehensive  in  its  results  upon  the 
welfare  of  man  than  the  latter ;  and  even  in  respect  to  the 
motives  and  designs  of  the  actors,  the  advantage  will  not  prove 
on  careful  examination  to  be  as  decisive  in  favor  of  the  former, 
as  it  might  at  first  thought  seem.  A  man  may  indeed  be 
actuated  solely  by  worldly  and  selfish  motives  and  by  love  of 
money,  in  his  business,  but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  he  may 
be  actuated  by  ostentation,  vanity,  and  love  of  display,  in  his 
charity.  In  fact  the  danger  is  perhaps  quite  as  great  of  one 
of  these  temptations  as  of  the  other.  Besides  we  are  not  at 
liberty  to  devote  ourselves  to  an  inferior  and  subordinate 
method  of  doing  good,  one  in  which  we  act  at  a  disadvan- 
tage, and  waste  a  great  portion  of  our  time  and  labor,  because 
we  imagine  that  in  that  way  we  can  more  easily  govern  our- 
selves by  the  right  feelings  of  heart.  On  the  contrary,  we 
must  aim  at  the  highest,  most  extensive  and  most  efficient 
mode  of  action  which  Providence  has  placed  within  the 
reach  of  our  powers,  and  see  to  it,  that  in  going  forward  in 
that  course  our  motives  are  right,  that  is,  that  we  are  really 
seeking  in  all  that  we  do  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  highest 
welfare  of  our  fellow-men. 

It  will  be  seen,  in  fact,  by  the  considerations  presented 
above,  that  doing  business  is  in  itself  doing  good  ;  and  this 
is  true,  whatever  may  be  the  branch  or  department  of  busi- 
ness in  which  a  man  is  engaged,  provided  that  it  is  a  legiti- 
mate and  an  honest  one.  Of  two  young  mechanics, — car- 
penters, we  will  suppose, — residing  in  two  different  villages, 
let  us  imagine  that  one  devotes  himself  with  all  his  energies 
to  the  business  of  his  calling.  He  studies  carefully  the  prin- 
ciples of  science  involved  in  his  occupation,  makes  himself 


376 


THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 


Their  plans  of  life. 


an  excellent  workman,  provides  himself  with  the  best  of 
tools  and  implements,  lays  up  his  earnings  that  he  may  have 
the  capital  necessary  for  extended  operations,  striving  all  the 
time  to  accumulate  this  capital  more  and  more,  in  order  that 
with  it  he  may  do  more  and  more.  He  goes  on  through  life 
acting  upon  these  principles,  and  in  consequence  of  this 
course  of  action  he  is  the  builder,  in  the  course  of  his  life, 
of  some  hundred  dwellings,  to  ba  the  abodes  of  peace  and 

comfort  and  happiness 
for  as  many  families. 
When  he  leaves  the 
world,  he  leaves  behind 
him  these  memorials 
of  his  industry,  his  pro- 
vidence and  his  thrift, 
to  adorn  his  native  vil- 
lage, and  furnish  shel- 
ter and  homes  for  suc- 
ceeding generations. — 
The  other,  we  will 
suppose,  concluded  that 
he  would  not  aim  at 
getting  rich.  He  would 
A  HOME.  work  moderately,  ex- 

pend freely,  and  employ 

his  surplus  time  in  seeking  out  the  poor  and  the  destitute, 
and  relieving  them  by  direct  charity.  Now  how  much 
higher  and  more  far-sighted,  and  more  effectual  in  accom 
plishing  their  end,  are  the  efforts  of  the  former  than  the  lat- 
ter. The  poor  and  the  destitute  whom  the  latter  relieved 
sparingly,  imperfectly,  and  one  by  one,  the  other  supplied 
effectually,  fully,  and  in  the  mass,  by  affording  them  the 
means  of  self-support  and  independence  through  their  own 
industry. 


PROPERTY    AS    A    MEANS    OF    DOING    GOOD.  377 

Various  functions  to  be  performed.  Uses  of  capital.  Gaming. 

'  Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  these  beneficial  effects  on 
the  general  welfare  of  man,  produced  by  the  vigorous  and 
successful  transaction  of  business,  are  confined  to  such  cases  as 
we  have  referred  to,  in  which  only  the  production  of  food  and 
clothing  and  dwellings  are  concerned.  It  is  necessary  that 
all  the  great  functions  of  life,  whatever  they  may  be,  should 
go  on,  and  all  branches  of  business,  each  in  its  own  way,  if  it 
is  a  legitimate  and  honest  one,  combine  together  to  promote 
the  general  good.  There  must  be  some  men  to  manufacture, 
others  to  transport,  others  to  buy  and  to  sell,  others  to  keep 
the  accounts.  Some  purchase  merchandise  when  it  is  low, 
and  furnish  to  the  owners  of  it  money,  which  they  need  more 
than  the  goods,  and  then  retaining  the  goods  till  the  price 
rises  again,  they  supply  the  demand  at  an  advance.  Such  a 
function  as  this,  though  it  is  sometimes  considered  a  useless 
one,  is  in  fact  one  of  those  most  essential  to  the  general  well- 
being  of  society.  The  plan  of  having  capital  at  hand,  ready 
to  take  the  custody  of  the  products  of  human  industry  when 
they  are  cheap  and  plentiful,  and  keep  them  safely  until  they 
are  less  so,  constitutes  the  great  regulator  of  social  life.  It 
corresponds  with  what  is  called  the  fly-wheel  in  a  machine, 
a  ponderous  reservoir  of  momentum,  which  absorbs  the  moving 
force  when  it  is  in  excess,  and  redelivers  it  again  when  there 
is  a  deficiency. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  some  pursuits  among  mankind,  which, 
like  gaming,  produce  no  value,  but  only  seek  to  gain  without 
an  equivalent,  that  which  others  have  produced.  These, 
however,  are  few :  while  all  the  legitimate  and  honest  occu- 
pations of  men,  by  which  property  is  acquired,  either  actually 
create  value,  or  do  something  to  facilitate  the  creation  of  it, 
or  increase  it  after  it  is  created,  and  thus  add  to  the  sum 
total  of  the  means  of  comfort  and  enjoyment  at  the  command 
of  the  race.  This  being  true,  the  most  effectual  mode  which 
any  person  can  adopt  for  promoting  the  general  welfare,  is  to 


378  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Honest  pursuits.  Doing  business  is  doing  good. 

engage  at  once,  and  with  all  his  energies,  in  co-operating 
with  the  rest  of  the  community  in  carrying  forward,  in  the 
most  rapid  manner,  and  on  the  most  extended  scale,  those 
great  industrial  pursuits  on  which  the  capacity  of  the  earth 
to  sustain  its  population  so  immediately  depends.  He  who 
operates  extensively  and  perseveringly  in  this  work,  is  not  only 
employing  his  own  energies  in  the  most  effectual  manner,  for 
adding  to  the  means  of  human  comfort  and  enjoyment,  hut  is 
also  aiding  in  the  work  of  making  employment  for  others.  He 
promotes  the  general  industry  as  well  as  the  general  wealth. 

It  is  curious  to  ohserve  that  not  only  is  it  true,  as  has  heen 
shown  ahove,  that  doing  business  is  in  itself  doing  good,  hut 
it  is  also  true,  within  certain  limits  and  under  certain  restric- 
tions, that  the  amount  of  business  which  a  man  has  accom- 
plished, and  the  amount  of  property  which  he  has  conse- 
quently acquired,  is  in  some  sense  a  measure  of  the  good 
which  he  has  done.  These  limits  and  restrictions  are  that 
the  business  is  a  legitimate  and  proper  one,  that  it  has  been 
properly  conducted,  and  that  the  avaiK.  of  it  have  been  prop- 
erly husbanded  and  preserved.  There  is  an  impression 
prevailing  among  a  certain  class  of  minds,  that  he  who  ac- 
quires a  fortune  acquires  it  in  some  sense  from  the  commu- 
nity, in  such  a  way  that  the  community  must  be  so  much 
the  poorer,  in  consequence  of  his  having  become  richer. 
The  reverse  of  this  is  however  generally  true.  A  man  can  not 
introduce  a  new  business  into  a  village  or  town,  and  acquire 
a  fortune  by  means  of  it,  without  at  the  same  time  enriching 
in  a  great  measure  the  village  or  town  itself; — or  at  least 
without  adding  a  great  deal  to  the  means,  and  consequently 
to  the  comforts  of  the  inhabitants.  The  reason  of  this  will  be 
obvious  on  an  analysis  of  the  operation  in  a  particular  case. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  a  wheelwright — an 
industrious  and  enterprising  young  man,  commences  the 
prosecution  of  his  trade  in  a  new  country.  He  opens  his 


PROPERTY   AS    A    MEANS   OP    DOING    GOOD. 


379 


The  wagon-maker. 


Transactions  analyzed. 


Buyer  and  seller. 


THE   WAGON. 


shop  and  makes  a  wag- 
on. He  offers  his 
wagon  for  sale  for  forty 
dollars.  A  neighbor- 
ing farmer,  after  con- 
sideration of  the  case, 
determines  to  buy  it. 
He  deems  it  for  his 
advantage  to  buy  it. 
He  pays  forty  dollars 
for  it.  He  prefers  it 
to  the  forty  dollars. 
That  is  to  say,  in  ex- 
change for  his  money 
he  gets,  besides  the 
wagon,  an  additional 
advantage,  the  hope  of 

which  additional  advantage  is  his  inducement  to  make  the 
purchase.  After  he  has  bought  the  wagon,  if  the  wagon- 
maker  were  to  die,  or  remove  from  the  place,  so  that  he  could 
not  obtain  another,  he  would  not  sell  his  wagon  we  will  say 
for  fifty  dollars  ;  that  is,  we  will  suppose,  for  the  purpose  of 
this  illustration,  that  in  exchanging  his  money  for  the  wagon, 
he  has  obtained  something  which  i^  worth  to  him  ten  dollars 
more  than  the  amount  that  he  paid  for  it. 

And  then,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  an  advantage  to 
the  wagoner  to  sell  his  wagon.  It  cost  him  to  make  it,  in 
time,  money,  and  labor,  thirty  dollars,  we  will  suppose ;  so 
that  the  transaction  is  an  advantage  to  him  of  ten  dollars. 
We  suppose  the  advantage  gained  by  the  two  parties  to  this 
transaction  to  be  equal,  for  though  they  might  not  be  pre- 
cisely equal  in  any  single  case  like  the  one  supposed,  yet 
viewing  the  subject  on  a  great  scale,  and  considering  all 
human  transactions  in  the  mass,  the  advantage  may  fairly 


380  THE   WAY    TO    DO   GOOD. 

Advantage  gained  by  the  purchaser.  Proof  that  it  is  great. 

and  properly  be  taken  to  be  equal  between  the  buyer  and  the 
seller.  Consequently  the  wagon-maker,  for  every  ten  dollars 
of  profit  that  he  himself  receives,  must  be  considered  as  having 
conferred  upon  some  farmer,  or  teamster,  or  traveler,  a  corres- 
ponding benefit  over  and  above  the  price  paid  for  the  wagons 
that  he  makes  for  them.  These  benefits  all  added  together 
will  make  an  amount  equal  to  the  total  of  his  profits,  so  that 
at  the  end  of  his  life  the  fortune  which  he  has  acquired  is  a 
measure,  in  some  sense,  of  the  benefit  he  has  conferred  upon 
others  in  acquiring  it.  He  makes  two  fortunes  in  fact,  in 
making  one.  The  one  is  for  himself.  The  other  is  dis- 
tributed through  the  community,  and  adds,  to  that  extent,  to 
the  general  posperity. 

It  may  perhaps  be  supposed  by  the  reader,  that  the  advan- 
tage which  the  purchaser  of  an  article  ordinarily  derives  from 
it,  over  and  above  the  money  which  he  pays,  is  overrated  in 
the  reasoning  above ;  and  it  may  be  said  that  people  are 
ordinarily  careful  not  to  pay  any  thing  more  for  an  article 
than  it  is  worth,  and  that  very  often,  after  they  have  made 
a  purchase,  they  feel  discontented  and  dissatisfied,  fearing  or 
imagining  that  they  have  paid  more  than  they  ought  to  have 
done.  This  is  doubtless  true, — but  what  they  mean  by  the 
worth  of  the  article,  in  such  a  case,  is,  what  they  could  have 
obtained  it  for  else  where,. not  its  real  value  to  them  as  an 
article  of  use.  If  when  a  person  has  made  a  purchase,  he 
has  reason  to  think  that  he  might  have  obtained  the  article 
for  a  less  sum,  he  is  discontented ;  and  this  hot  because  it 
was  not  of  great  advantage  to  him  to  have  bought  it  as  he 
did,  but  because  it  would  have  been  of  greater  advantage 
still,  if  he  had  bought  it  cheaper.  That  men  do  gain  an 
advantage  over  and  above  the  price  that  they  pay  for  their 
purchases,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  they  make  purchases. 
They  would  not  give  up  the  money  for  the  article  unless 
they  supposed  that  the  article  was  better  for  them.  That 


PROPERTY  AS  A  MEANS  OF  DOING  GOOD.       381 

The  argument  from  theory.  Argument  from  observation. 

the  advantage  thus  gained  is  very  considerable,  is  proved 
from  this  fact,  that  were  the  means  of  procuring  any  particu- 
lar article  whatever  suddenly  to  fail,  so  that  no  more  could 
be  made  and  sold,  every  existing  article  of  that  kind  would 
immediately  rise  very  greatly  in  value.  If  in  any  region  of 
country,  for  example,  where  a  wagon-maker  had  lived  for 
many  years,  and  had  supplied  the  people  with  wagons  at 
forty  dollars  apiece,  there  should  come,  in  some  way  or 
other,  a  total  interruption  to  the  supply,  so  that  no  more 
vehicles  could  be  procured  in  any  way,  those  already  made 
would  immediately  command  double  or  treble  the  price  which 
had  been  paid  for  them.  That  is  to  say,  the  actual  benefit 
which  the  purchasers  derived  from  the  use  of  the  wagons 
was  very  much  above  the  price  paid  for  them,  and  the 
nominal  and  market  value  had  been  kept  down  to  that  sum, 
only  because  of  the  continuance  of  the  supply. 

This  great  truth,  then,  that  he  who  acquires  property  by 
any  legitimate  and  honest  business,  instead  of  taking  the 
amount  which  he  acquires  from,  the  community,  actually 
confers  upon  the  community  itself  a  benefit  equal  to  that 
which  he  himself  receives,  and  makes  them  richer,  while  he 
enriches  himself,  is  not  only  sustained  by  the  theoretical 
considerations  above  adduced,  but  is  abundantly  confirmed 
by  practical  observation.  Where  an  enterprising  and  active 
man,  with  talents,  industry  and  capital,  goes  into  any  com- 
munity and  commences  his  operations  there,  he  generally  not 
only  prospers  himself,  but  he  diffuses  a  general  prosperity  all 
around  him.  Dwellings  multiply,  the  comforts  and  con- 
veniences of  life  are  increased,  industry  increases,  schools 
improve,  and  children  are  better  clothed  and  better  fed. 
However  selfish  the  man  may  be  whose  enterprise  and  ac- 
tivity produces  this  general  improvement,  and  however  far 
from  his  thoughts  all  desire  or  intention  to  produce  it  may 
have  been, — the  effect  will  inevitably  follow,  through  the 


382  THE   WAY    TO   DO   GOOD. 

Benefits  conferred  upon  society.  Influence  of  capital. 

operation  of  inflexible  and  universal  laws,  which  no  manage- 
ment on  his  part  can  counteract,  or  essentially  impede. 

In  a  word,  the  true  state  of  the  case  may  be  summed  up 
thus  :  a  man  can  not  prosper  in  any  honest  business  without 
benefiting  the  community  as  well  as  himself, — for  he  can 
not  induce  men  to  deal  with  him  without  offering  them  an 
advantage ;  and  taking  all  the  transactions  of  life  together, 
the  advantages  which  men  offer  to  others  must,  on  the  whole, 
be  equal  to  those  which  they  receive  themselves.  Doing 
business,  therefore,  is  a  very  effectual  and  extended  mode  of 
doing  good ;  and  the  fortune  which  is  acquired  in  doing  it, 
is,  in  a  very  important  sense,  the  measure  and  index  of  the 
good  done. 

Besides  these  incidental  benefits  necessarily  conferred  upon 
society  in  the  very  process  of  acquiring  property,  there  are 
the  uses  which  may  be  made  of  it  as  an  engine  of  power, 
when  it  is  acquired.  How  vast  is  the  influence  of  capital, 
and  how  prodigious  is  the  power  that  is  wielded  by  means 
of  it,  in  carrying  forward  the  great  movements  of  the  present 
age.  The  bankers,  the  builders  and  owners  of  steamships, 
the  great  associations  of  capitalists  organized  for  the  purpose 
of  effecting  the  vast  constructions  of  the  present  age,  are 
wielding  an  influence  among  mankind,  which  is  beginning 
to  be  superior  to  that  of  governments  and  kings.  How  im- 
portant is  it  now,  that  for  the  next  century  this  influence  and 
power  should  be,  as  far  as  possible,  in  the  hands  of  the  good. 
Suppose  that  men  of  high  moral  and  Christian  principle  were 
generally  to  withdraw  from  this  field.  Suppose  that  under 
some  mistaken  views  of  religious  duty  they  were  to  impose 
limits,  beyond  which  they  would  not  allow  their  property,— 
that  is,  their  power, — to  increase,  and  that  in  consequence 
of  such  determinations  the  control  and  direction  of  the  great 
industrial  operations  of  the  social  state,  were  to  devolve  upon 


PROPERTY   AS   A   MEANS   OF   DOING   GOOD.  383 

Practical  considerations.  Duty  of  young  men.  Present  age  of  the  world. 

the  unprincipled  and  the  evil, — what  extended  and  disastrous 
effects  on  the  future  welfare  of  the  race  might  be  expected 
to  follow. 


The  considerations  in  respect  to  the  nature  and  use  of 
property  which  have  been  advanced  in  the  preceding  dis- 
cussion, seem  to  lead  directly  to  the  following  practical  re- 
sults. 

1 .  It  is  the  duty  of  every  young  man  who  is  forming  his 
plans  of  life  to  consider  capital  as  power,  and  to  see  that 
under  the  general  obligation  which  rests  upon  him  to  increase 
his  power  to  do  good  as  much  as  he  can,  he  is  bound  to  aim 
at  the  acquisition  of  property.  In  fact,  a  man  in  any  of  the 
ordinary  pursuits  of  life,  is  under  precisely  the  same  obliga- 
tion to  endeavor  to  increase  his  capital,  that  he  is  to  endeavor 
to  improve  his  mind  and  increase  his  stores  of  useful  knowl- 
edge. Progress  in  each  of  those  respects  increases  his  power, 
and  he  is  bound  not  only  to  use  well  the  power  that  he  has, 
but  to  increase  it  as  much  as  possible,  so  as  to  add  to  his 
future  efficiency.  Whatever  his  profession  or  occupation 
may  be,  he  is  bound  to  work  on  as  extended  a  scale,  and  iu 
as  efficient  a  manner  as  possible,  in  order  that  he  may  con- 
tribute as  much  to  the  general  good,  as  the  nature  of  the 
case  will  possibly  allow. 

It  must  be  remembered  too  that  the  duty  of  which  we  are 
speaking  is  greater  and  more  imperative  at  the  present  day 
than  at  any  former  period,  and  it  is  growing  greater  and 
more  imperative  every  year.  This  results  from  the  fact  that 
on  account  of  the  immense  improvements  which  have  recent- 
ly been  made,  and  which  are  now  making,  in  the  art  of 
systematizing  labor,  and  employing  expensive  machinery  and 
great  constructions  «in  accomplishing  the  purposes  of  life, 
capital  is  far  more  indispensable  as  an  engine  of  business' 
power  now  than  it  was  half  a  century  ago ;  and  it  will  be 


384  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

These  principles  of  universal  application.  Four  effects. 

still  more  indispensable  in  the  next  half-century  than  it  is  in 
this.  The  destinies  of  the  world  are,  in  a  word,  passing  into 
the  hands  of  those  who  wield  the  money  power  of  the  world  ; 
and  every  man  who  is  placed  in  a  situation,  in  the  provi- 
dence of  God,  which  enables  him  to  gain  possession  of  and 
to  exercise  any  portion  of  this  power,  will  most  assuredly  he 
held  accountable  for  the  manner  in  which  he  has  availed 
himself  of  the  opportunity. 

2.  These  principles  apply  with  the  same  force  to  those 
who  are  engaged  in  the  more  humble  pursuits  of  life,  as  to 
those  who  are  engaged  in  the  highest.     The  merchant  or 
navigator  who  transacts  business  on  an  extensive  scale,  in  a 
great  commercial  emporium,  is  bound  by  them ;  and  so  is 
the  mechanic  or  the  laborer,  in  the  quiet  village,  or  in  the 
most  retired  hamlet  among  the  mountains.     For  in  its  due 
measure  and  proportion,  the  advantage  is  just  as  great  in  the 
one  case  as  in  the  other.     The  great  city  merchant  doubles 
his  influence  and  his  power  by  doubling  his  large  capital. 
The  village  laborer  produces  the  same  enlargement  of  his 
means  of  influence  by  doubling  his  small  capital.     The  effect 
is  the  same  in  the  two  cases,  though  the  scale  on  which  the 
operation  is  performed  is  greater  in  the  one  case  than  in  the 
other. 

3.  There  are  four  distinct  points  of  view  in  which  we  are 
to  consider  that  a  man,  whatever  his  position  in  life  may  be, 
enlarges  his  means  of  doing  good  by  pursuing  a  prudent  and 
thrifty  policy  in  the  management  of  his  affairs.     That  is,  in 
addition  to  the  indirect  and  general  influence  which  he  exerts 
upon  the  community  around  him  in  acquiring  property,  there 
are  four  ways  in  which  his  course  of  management,  and  the 
thrifty  condition  which  results  from  it,  operate  directly  to 
place  him  in  a  better  position  for  doing  good  than  he  would 

, otherwise  enjoy.     Let  us  consider  these  four  points  in  detail. 
In  the  first  place,  the  very  fact  that  a  man  manages  hia 


PEOPERTY    AS    A    MEANS   OF    DOING    GOOD.  385 

Firet  effect  of  worldly  prosperity.  Evil  effects  of  laxity. 

affairs  in  a  prudent,  careful,  and  sagacious  manner,  and  that 
he  is  consequently  thrifty  and  forehanded  in  all  his  affairs, 
gives  him  a  great  influence  among  his  neighbors,  independent- 
ly of  any  actual  accumulation  of  property.  If  a  young  man, 
commencing  life  in  any  retired  country  town,  is  industrious 
and  frugal,  and  resolutely  keeps  his  expenses  and  those  of  his 
family  so  far  below  his  income,  that  he  always  has  money  at 
his  command,  if  all  claims  against  him  are  always  promptly 
paid,  if  he  buys  for  cash,  and  keeps  all  his  accounts  in  an 
exact  and  methodical  manner,  he  immediately  assumes  a 
position  in  the  estimation  of  the  community  around  him, 
which  at  once  gives  him  a  great  influence.  It  imparts 
weight  and  importance  to  all  that  he  says  and  does.  He  is 
more  highly  respected,  and  his  example,  whether  it  be  on  the 
side  of  piety  and  virtue,  or  of  irreligion  and  vice,  has  far 
greater  power  to  win  others  to  the  imitation  of  it.  Even  if 
the  property  which  he  acquires  by  this  wise  and  prudent 
policy  were  to  be  sunk  in  the  sea  as  fast  as  he  should  acquire 
it,  there  would  still  remain  a  great  good  done,  by  the  in- 
creased weight  and  influence  which  his  example  and  influ- 
ence would  have  among  his  neighbors  and  friends,  by  the 
character  which  he  would  exhibit  in.  his  mode  of  acquiring 
it.  I  do  not  refer  in  this  to  his  Christian  character ;  that  will 
be  considered  under  another  head,  but  only  to  his  business 
character ; — his  thrift,  his  industry,  his  trustworthiness,  and 
his  success.  The  exhibition  of  these  qualities  gives  great 
weight  and  influence  to  him  who  exemplifies  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  where  a  man,  however  sincere  and 
honest  a  Christian  he  may  be,  is  lax  and  negligent  in  the 
management  of  his  affairs,  behindhand  in  his  payments,  and 
accustomed  to  disappoint  those  who  depend  upon  his  promises, 
he  undermines  by  his  business  habits  the  influence  which  he 
endeavors  to  exert  as  a  servant  of  God.  His  voice,  in  the 
consultation  of  his  friends  and  neighbors,  is  not  regarded 

R 


386  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Use  of  capital.  The  widow  and  her  son.  Charity. 

His  recommendations  have  no  weight.  They  whom  he 
deceives  and  disappoints,  in  their  vexation  condemn  and 
despise  religion  itself  in  the  person  of  its  professor,  and  his 
example,  if  it  is  regarded  at  all,  is  pointed  at  only  to  be 
shunned. 

In  the  second  place,  there  is,  as  has  already  been  shown, 
the  capital  itself  which  would  be  accumulated  by  a  thrifty 
course  of  management,  to  be  employed  subsequently  in  wid- 
ening one's  sphere  of  usefulness.  If  a  case  occurs  where  any 
good  project  demanding  the  use  of  money  is  proposed,  a  pros- 
perous man  can  at  once  co-operate  in  carrying  it  into  effect. 
He  can  aid  it  too,  not  merely  by  the  amount  of  his  own  con- 
tribution ;  his  contribution  will  carry  in  the  contribution  of 
others.  Money  seems  to  be  subject  to  a  species  of  sympathy, 
and  one  sum  goes  easily  where  another  has  gone  before  it. 
A  good  man,  heading  a  subscription  for  the  establishment  of 
a  library  in  his  native  town,  will  induce  his  friends  and  neigh- 
bors to  join  with  him  in  the  enterprise,  and  all  will  readily  put 
down  their  names  in  behalf  of  it ;  while,  if  he  had  been  a  bad 
man,  and  his  subscription  had  been  for  opening  a  race-course, 
a  great  portion  of  the  same  men  would  have  perhaps  subscribed 
the  same  money,  for  that  object.  The  good  man,  therefore, 
may  not  only  use  his  own  money  for  good  purposes,  but  the 
very  possession  of  the  money  gives  him  in  some  sense  the 
power  of  using  his  neighbors'  money  too. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  observe  how  many  ways  occur  by 
which  a  man  may  use  money  for  the  purposes  of  doing  good, 
without  alienating  it.  For  example,  a  widowed  mother  is  left 
in  destitute  circumstances  by  the  death  of  her  husband,  and 
the  neighbors  feel  a  strong  interest  in  aiding  her.  Among 
the  children,  there  is  a  son  just  come  of  age,  an  industrious, 
prudent,  and  intelligent  young  man.  He  is  such  a  man  as 
can  use  capital  in  business  safely  and  to  great  advantage. 
Now  while  the  neighbors,  in  the  use  of  such  scanty  means  as 


PROPERTY   AS    A   MEANS    OF    DOING    GOOD.  387 

Building  houses.  The  wool  merchant. 

are  at  their  command,  are  sending  in  little  presents  of  food 
and  clothing  to  cheer  the  widow's  heart,  and  render  her  a 
little  temporary  aid,  a  wealthy  Christian  merchant  who  lives 
near,  knowing  the  character  of  the  son,  and  understanding 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  sees  that  it  will  be  safe  for 
him  to  advance  a  sum  of  money  to  establish  the  young  man 
in  business  at  once.  The  plan  succeeds.  The  family  are 
immediately  raised  to  a  position  of  independence  and  comfort. 
The  young  man  in  due  time  repays  the  money,  with  the  in- 
terest ;  the  merchant  returning  it  to  his  coffers,  holding  it 
ready  there  for  some  new  work  of  usefulness  when  the  way 
shall  appear. 

Such  self-sustaining  ways  of  doing  good  are  the  best  ways. 
He  who  buys  wool  on  a  large  scale,  paying  a  fair  price  for  it 
promptly  at  the  farmers'  doors,  so  as  to  encourage  the  popu- 
lation of  the  surrounding  mountains  to  raise  more  sheep  than 


THE    WOOL   MERCHANT. 


388  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Contributions  to  charity. 

they  otherwise  would  have  done,  is  engaged  more  effectually 
in  clothing  the  destitute,  than  if  he  gave  the  money  to  the 
poor.  His  heing  able  afterward  to  sell  the  wool  at  an  ad- 
vance, is  what  gives  life  and  effectiveness  and  perpetuity  to 
this  mode  of  action ;  for  it  gives  him  the  means  in  each  fol- 
lowing year  to  do  more  good  than  he  could  in  the  one  pre- 
ceding. So  a  man  who  huilds  a  house  and  lets  it  to  a  poor 
man,  encouraging  him,  in  the  mean  time,  in  his  efforts 
to  earn  money  by  his  industry,  and  aiding  him  in  obtaining 
work,  so  that  the  tenant  can  pay  back  a  rent  for  his  dwel- 
ling, does  good  in  a  much  more  wholesome,  safe,  and  effect- 
ual way,  than  if  he  gave  the  rent  of  the  house  as  a  deed 
of  charity, — besides  keeping  his  resources  good  for  future 
operations. 

Thus,  if  a  man's  great  object  and  aim  is  the  promotion 
of  human  happiness,  the  most  effectual  and  most  perma- 
nent means  is  to  use  his  property  right,  without  alienating 
it, — to  consider  it,  in  a  word,  an  engine  to  be  employed,  not 
a  stock  to  be  expended.  The  best  test,  in  fact,  in  many  cases, 
of  the  actual  good  which  is  done  by  money  expended  or  em- 
ployed, is  the  return  which  is  made  ; — provided  always  that 
the  business  is  an  honest  one,  and  is  conducted  in  an  honor- 
able manner.  For  the  return  is  in  some  sense  a  measure  of 
the  benefit  which  the  community  has  received, 

In  the  third  place,  among  the  ways  by  which  the  posses- 
sion of  property  will  aid  in  doing  good,  is  the  ordinary  mode 
of  giving  money,  commonly  so  called,  for  there  undoubtedly 
are  cases  in  which  the  good  can  only  be  done  by  an  aliena- 
tion of  the  money.  I  do  not  propose  to  dwell  upon  this  point, 
as  it  is  very  often  explained  and  enforced.  What  is  strictly 
called  charity,  that  is,  the  appropriating  of  money  to  the  re- 
lief of  the  sick  and  of  the  poor,  to  the  sending  of  the  gospel 
to  the  heathen,  to  the  dissemination  of  the  Scriptures  and 
other  religious  writings,  to  the  maintenance  of  the  gospel  in 


PROPERTY    AS   A   MEANS    OF    DOING    GOOD.  389 

Piety  in  high  stations.  False  views  of  some  Christiana. 

remote  and  destitute  districts,  and  other  similar  objects,  is  a 
duty  which  the  Christian  church  is  bound  to  discharge,  with 
a  free  and  generous  hand.  The  fact  that  they  who  are 
wealthy  can  help  forward  these  works  in  so  much  more 
effectual  a  manner  than  others,  is  a  reason  why  every  Chris- 
tian should  be  enterprising,  industrious,  and  frugal,  in  order 
that  he  may  acquire  the  wealth  necessary  for  promoting  them. 

And  then,  in  the  fourth  place,  the  possession  of  property,  in- 
dependently of  any  use  that  is  made  of  it,  gives  a  weight  and 
momentum  to  the  personal  religious  character  of  the  Chris- 
tian, that  is  of  the  highest  value.  We  have  a  great  many 
instances  of  the  power  of  consistent  religious  example  in  the 
case  of  poor  men.  The  power  is,  however,  immensely  greater 
in  the  case  of  men  of  wealth  and  high  standing.  If  in  any 
village,  the  principal  inhabitants  in  respect  to  property  and 
station,  are  humble,  honest,  and  devoted  Christians,  their 
example  exerts  a  most  powerful  influence  down  through  all 
the  gradations  of  society.  Their  regard  for  the  Sabbath  and 
for  all  religious  institutions,  their  habits  of  prayer,  their  hon- 
est, unaffected  good-will  for  all,  their  conscientious  sense  of 
duty, — when  these  principles  are  possessed  and  acted  upon, 
— make  an  impression  upon  the  public  mind  far  more  ex- 
tensive and  more  permanent  than  would  be  produced  by  the 
same  number  of  individuals  in  obscure  and  humble  stations. 
Every  man,  therefore,  who  wishes  that  his  influence  in  favor 
of  the  cause  of  Christ  should  be  felt  widely,  must  look  to  his 
pecuniary  condition,  and  take  such  a  course  as  shall,  in  this 
respect,  place  him  in  the  right  position  in  the  eyes  of  his 
fellow-men. 

There  are  thus  four  entirely  distinct  and  independent 
modes  in  which  the  possession  of  property  places  a  man  on 
higher  ground  than  he  would  otherwise  occupy  as  a  laborer 
in  the  cause  of  God  Instead  therefore  of  the  feeling,  which 
many  persons  seem  to  entertain,  that  the  acquisition  of  prop- 


390  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Cautions.  Accumulation  of  property. 

erty  is  an  evil  or  a  danger,  and  that  Christians  ought  reso- 
lutely to  confine  it  within  certain  prescribed  and  definite 
limits,  we  ought  to  consider  it  as  the  road  to  the  greatest 
Christian  efficiency  and  influence,  and  every  faithful  servant 
of  God  ought  to  advance  as  far  and  as  rapidly  on  the  road  as 
he  can.  His  motives,  ends  and  aims  in  doing  this  ought  in- 
deed to  he  high  and  noble ;  and  he  must  be  upright  and 
honorable  and  conscientious  too,  in  all  his  means  and  meas- 
ures. He  must  not  be  covetous.  He  must  not  love  money 
for  its  own  sake,  or  make  it  his  idol.  He  must  not  make 
haste  to  be  rich,  and  so  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare, — 
but  he  must  press  forward  calmly,  quietly,  energetically  and 
perse veringly,  hand  in  hand  with  Christian  brethren  of  every 
name  and  degree,  in  the  great  work  which,  in  the  course  of 
the  next  half-century  ought  to  be  done  throughout  the  Chris- 
tian world,  of  getting  possession  of  the  silver  and  gold  of  the 
earth,  for  its  rightful  owner, — the  Lord. 

4.  Parents  should  keep  these  considerations  in  mind  far 
more  fully  than  they  generally  do,  in  the  education  of  their 
children,  and  train  children  more  carefully  to  habits  of  fru- 
gality and  economy.  Many  Christian  parents  seem  to  be 
afraid  that  their  children  will  love  money  too  much,  and 
show  too  great  a  disposition  to  save  it.  But  the  danger  is 
almost  universally  the  other  way.  Parsimony  is  the  fault  of 
age,  the  tendency  of  youth  is  to  profusion  and  extravagance. 
The  danger  from  this  source  is  greater  too  in  America  than 
in  almost  any  other  country.  The  young  begin  life  here  on 
too  high  a  scale.  The  time  between  twenty  and  thirty  is 
the  time  for  laying  the  foundation  of  a  fortune.  A  thousand 
dollars,  laid  up  at  twenty  years  of  age  in  safe  modes  of  in- 
vestment, becomes  ten  thousand  dollars  when  the  possessor 
is  sixty ;  and  in  the  mean  time  may  have  been  employed  over 
and  over  again  as  a  means  of  influence  and  usefulness,  having 
grown  to  ten  times  its  original  magnitude  by  the  very  use  to 


PROPEETY   AS   A   MEANS   OF   DOING   GOOD.  391 

Importance  of  beginning  early. 

which  it  has  been  devoted.  Children  should  therefore  early 
be  taught  the  difference  between  investing  money  and  ex- 
pending it.  Lead  them  to  see  that  money  invested  remains 
in  their  control,  to  be  employed  as  a  means  of  influence  and 
usefulness,  and  as  an  engine  of  doing  good,  and  to  grow  con- 
tinually under  their  hands  by  being  so  employed ;  while 
money  that  is  expended  is  lost  and  gone.  Lead  them  thus 
to  entertain  such  ideas  of  the  nature  and  value  of  money, 
and  to  form  such  habits  in  the  use  of  it,  that  they  shall  at 
the  outset  of  life  bring  down  their  expenses  to  such  a  point 
that  there  shall  begin  to  be  at  once  an  accumulation  of 
income.  They  will  thus  soon  be  placed  above  the  condition 
of  dependence,  embarrassment  and  anxiety.  Their  influence 
over  their  fellow-men  will  be  greatly  increased  ;  their  Chris- 
tian example  will  have  far  greater  power ;  and  their  means 
of  usefulp'^s  will  be  in  all  respects  very  greatly  extended. 


392  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOu. 

Plan  completed.  Recapitulation. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  plan  which  I  had  marked  out  for  myself  in.  the 
volumes  of  which  this  is  the  conclusion,  being  now  accom- 
plished, nothing  remains  hut  for  me  simply  to  recapitulate 
some  of  the  fundamental  principles  on  which  the  views 
maintained  in  these  works  are  based,  and  then  to  bid  my 
readers  farewell. 

These  principles  may  be  briefly  enumerated  thus. 

1 .  Lofty  and  expanded  views  of  the  character  and  govern- 
ment of  God.  I  have  endeavored  to  lead  the  reader  to 
look  upon  Jehovah  as  the  Universal  Spirit,  pervading  and 
sustaining  all  things ; — and  to  draw  him  away  from  the 
absurd  image  of  ivory  and  gold,  which  the  imagination  of 
childhood  paints,  out  into  the  mighty  universe  which  spreads 
itself  inimitably  all  around  us,  and  shows  us  God's  doings 
and  character  in  all  the  physical  phenomena  of  nature,  and 
in  all  the  social  and  economical  relations  of  man. 

Such  views  of  the  great  Jehovah,  will  alone  free  the  mind 
from  virtual  idolatry.  They  alone  will  light  up  all  nature 
with  an  expression  from  God,  and  enable  us  to  realize,  in  the 
most  complete  and  thorough  manner,  his  continual  presence 
and  agency. 

I  ought,  however,  to  warn  my  readers  very  distinctly  of 
one  danger  arising  from  this  view,  and  that  is,  that  by 
considering  God  as  the  universal  agency,  operating  through- 
out the  universe,  they  may  lose  sight  of  his  personality. 


CONCLUSION.  393 


Views  of  God.  Pantheism.  Another  design  of  this  work. 

We  may  feel  that  God  is  the  great  Universal  Cause,  and 
forget  that  he  is  a  watchful,  moral  governor  over  every  one 
of  us.  This  is  Pantheism.  It  makes  every  thing  God,  and 
while  it  extends  everywhere  his  presence,  it  destroys  his 
personality.  It  has  been  a  very  common  way  by  which 
men  have  escaped  from  the  moral  control  of  their  Maker. 
Philosophers  discovered  it,  and  it  has  been,  in  every  age, 
considered  a  very  adroit  and  beautiful  mode  of  escaping 
from  the  claims  of  repentance  and  faith  in  Christ.  It  is 
the  way  chosen  by  the  philosophers,  the  educated,  the  re- 
fined. They  change  Jehovah  from  a  person  to  a  principle, 
they  lose  all  sense  of  his  moral  watchfulness  over  them, 
and  of  their  accountability  to  him.  In  fact  his  very  indi- 
viduality is  gone,  and  all  the  pressure  of  accountability 
to  him,  on  their  part,  goes  with  it, — and  yet  they  pride 
themselves  upon  the  loftiness  of^jtheir  religious  position,  and 
retain  and  pervert  all  the  phraseology  of  piety  to  help  them 
in  the  deception.  They  admire  nature,  and  call  it  adoring 
God. 

Now  we  must  beware  of  this  danger,  and  as  we  expand 
our  views  of  the  divine  character,  and  begin  to  conceive  of 
him  as  the  ETERNAL  AND  OMNIPRESENT  SPIRIT,  we  must  not 
'destroy  his  personality,  nor  lose  sight,  for  a  moment,  of  that 
strict  and  solemn  accountability,  to  which  he  holds  every 
intelligent  creature  that  he  has  formed. 

2.  It  has  been  another  design  of  this  work,  to  lead  the 
reader  to  a  deep  conviction  of  his  own  moral  helplessness,  as 
a  sinner  against  God,  and  of  the  necessity  of  a  radical  change 
in  his  heart  by  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  degree 
of  hopelessness  and  helplessness  of  a  confirmed  bad  character, 
of  any  kind,  is  something  which  men  feel,  and  understand, 
but  which  they  do  not  like  to  express  in  language  ;  for  they 
can  not  express  it,  without  encroaching  upon  their  theories 
of  free  agency.  The  strength  and  the  weight  of  the  chain 

R* 


394  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  slavery  of  sin.  Freedom.  Bondage. 

with  which  any  established  habit  or  besetting  sin  binds  the 
victim,  is  a  great  restriction  to  the  boundless  freedom  which 
we  love  to  attribute  to  the  human  soul.  One  kind  of  free- 
dom is  indeed  boundless,  in  man, — the  freedom  with  which 
the  mental  acts  flow  from  the  reigning  desires.  There  is  no 
outward  restraint.  The  band  which  enthralls  the  human 
soul,  is  an  iron  rigidity  within,  and  they  who  have  ever  really 
undertaken  to  grapple  with  any  one  sin,  and  to  root  it  out 
from  its  place  in  the  heart,  will  feel  that  sin  is,  after  all,  a 
slavery, — a  bitter,  helpless,  hopeless  slavery. 

Hopeless, — that  is,  if  the  poor  victim  is  left  unaided,  in 
his  struggles  to  get  free.  We  may  restrain  the  outward 
transgression  by  such  considerations  as  we  may  force  before 
our  minds,  but  how  shall  we  compel  these  deceitful  and 
corrupt  hearts  to  cease  from  loving  transgression,  and  wish- 
ing that  it  might  be  safely  indulged.  A  case  of  confirmed 
intemperance  illustrates  the  difficulty.  I  have  known  such 
a  victim,  of  kind  feelings,  of  honesty,  uprightness,  intelligence, 
— made  the  slave  of  the  great  destroyer  of  men, — and  in  his 
days  of  reflection  he  would  mourn  and  weep  over  his  ruin, — 
his  broken-hearted  wife,  his  suffering  children, — and  resolve, 
and  promise,  and  fix  himself  in  the  utmost  firmness  of  human 
determination,  that  he  would  never  yield  to  temptation  again. 
But  the  hour  of  temptation  came,  and  his  decision  and  firm- 
ness would  melt  away.  With  all  his  struggles  it  would 
seem  to  him  that  he  -could  not  resist. 

Could  he  or  could  he  not  ?  Was  he  free,  or  was  he  not 
free  ?  Ah !  he  was  free,  and  that  very  liberty  was  his 
destruction ;  for  it  was  freedom  to  act  according  to  the 
reigning  desires  of  his  heart,  and  those  desires  had  been 
hopelessly  corrupted  by  long  habits  of  sin.  So  with  the 
soul  in  its  attitude  toward  its  Maker.  With  feelings  averse 
to  God,  and  to  holy  happiness,  and  they  steady,  permanent, 
and  tending  to  perpetuate  themselves, — and  then  with  en- 


CONCLUSION. 


393 


Unlimited  freedom. 


The  difficulty. 


Suffering. 


tire  and  unlimited  freedom  to  act  according  to  those  desires, 
its  case  is  hopeless.  If  a  moral  restraint  from  without  could 
intervene,  there  might  be  a  hope  of  salvation  ;  but  when 
the  desires  are  wrong,  to  be  left  to  perfect  freedom,  is  to 
make  destruction  sure.  So  that  the  entire,  unconditional 
liberty  of  the  sinner  who  is  left  to  his  own  ways,  is  the  very 
key-stone  of  his  dungeon  ;  it  makes  his  moral  ruin  perpetual 
and  hopeless.  A  thorough  understanding  of  this  will  lead  to 
a  self-abandonment,  and  a  surrender  to  the  Savior,  so  com- 
plete and  unconditional,  as  to  give  real  peace  and  happiness 
to  the  most  wounded  soul.  It  is  this  only  which  lays  the 
proper  foundation  for  happy  piety. 

That  this  view  of  the  lost  and  helpless  condition  of  man 
is  the  true  one,  the  study  of  our  own  hearts,  observation  of 
mankind,  and  the  Word  of  God,  combine  to  furnish  a  triple 
proof ;  and  there  is  nothing  to  oppose  to  it  but  theoretical  diffi- 
culty. "  For  how,"  asks  the  unbeliever,  "  can  you  reconcile 
such  views  of  the  hope- 
less ruin  of  an  immor- 
tal being,  with  the 
power,  and  benevo- 
lence, and  holiness  of 
God?" 

I  can  not  reconcile 
them,  and  so  the  squir- 
rel, whose  limb  a  sports- 
man has  shot  away  for 
his  amusement,  crawl- 
ing into  his  hole  in 
agony,  presents  a  spec- 
tacle which  it  is  equal- 
ly impossible  to  recon- 
cile with  the  power, 


THE    FOUNTAIN. 


396  THE    WAY    TO    BO    GOOD. 

Existence  of  suffering  inexplicable. 

and  benevolence,  and  holiness  of  God.  You  can  not  take  a 
step  toward  the  solution  of  either  one  of  these  difficulties, — 
not  a  single  step.  Men  have  talked  and  reasoned  about  the 
existence  of  sin  and  suffering,  and  attempted  to  explain  them  ; 
and  there  is  no  impropriety  in  such  speculations  ; — but  they 
make  no  progress  whatever,  in  making  it  plain  to  the  human 
mind  how  a  single  instance  of  sin  and  suffering  can  possibly 
exist  in  a  world  governed  by  spotless  holiness,  and  by  bound- 
less power.  But  when  you  have  explained  how  there  can 
be  one  hour  of  sin  and  suffering,  the  difficulty  is  all  over, 
for  .the  explanation  will  answer  as  well  for  the  second  hour 
as  the  first,  and  for  every  succeeding  one.  Just  as  when 
you  have  explained  the  formation  of  one  drop,  you  have 
explained  the  whole  shower, — and  not  only  that  one,  but  all 
other  showers  that  ever  have  fallen,  or  will  fall  forever. 
Vast  and  insuperable,  therefore,  as  are  the  difficulties  which 
hang  over  the  prospect  of  the  utter  and  perpetual  moral  ruin 
of  any  man,  they  are  all  removed  by  explaining  any  single 
instance  of  sin  and  suffering.  Tell  me  how  Judas  could  have 
betrayed  his  Master,  and  suffered  such  remorse  and  anguish 
for  it,  while  on  earth,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  it  can  be,  that 
he  is  sinning  and  suffering  now ;  and  I  will  repeat  the 
explanation,  for  any  other  hour  of  his  future  existence, 
whenever  you  may  call  for  it. 

The  theoretical  difficulty,  then,  while  we  acknowledge  its 
force,  ought  not  to  operate  as  a  presumption  against  what 
our  own  experience,  and  the  Word  of  God,  unite  to  maintain, 
for  the  difficulty  applies  equally  to  what  we  know  to  exist, 
and  therefore,  though  it  appears  insuperable  to  us,  we  are 
compelled  to  believe  that  there  is  a  solution  for  it ;  and  the 
solution  which  will  cover  one  case,  will  cover  all.  The  dif- 
ficulty is  not  increased  by  multiplying  the  cases  to  which  it 
will  apply.  Every  separate  portion  of  the  existence  of  a  fal- 
len angel,  or  of  a  fallen  man,  may  be  considered  a  distinct 


CONCLUSION.  397 


Christ  the  atoning  sacrifice. 


example  of  the  existence  of  sin  and  suffering,  and  whenever 
we  are  able  to  see  the  compatibility  of  one  of  them  with  the 
boundless  power  and  love  of  the  Supreme,  we  shall  under- 
stand the  compatibility  of  all. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Bible,  then,  is,  that  sin  perpetuates 
itself;  and  we  see  and  feel  this,  its  essential  tendency,  in  all 
our  experience  of  its  nature.  It  does  it,  however,  not  by  any 
compulsion  from  without,  forcing  man  to  sin,  contrary  to  his 
desires,  but  by  changing  and  corrupting  those  desires,  and 
setting  them  permanently  in  the  wrong  direction.  The  de- 
sires and  the  heart  thus  corrupted,  and  alienated  from  God, 
freedom,  of  itself,  becomes  ruin,  and  any  one  who  looks  into 
his  soul,  with  careful  self-examination,  to  study  its  feelings 
toward  God,  and  to  make  them  what  they  ought  to  be,  will 
find,  after  a  few  hard  and  weary  struggles,  that  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  Bible  in  respect  to  the  deathlike  helpless- 
ness of  the  sinner,  are  too  true.  I  have  wished  to  draw  the 
reader  to  these  views.  They  are,  I  am  convinced,  funda- 
mentally necessary.  They,  and  they  only,  will  lead  to  that 
humble  attitude  before  God,  and  that  simple  reliance  on  his 
Spirit,  which  will  secure  any  proper  progress  in  piety. 

4.  It  has  been  the  intention  of  this  work  to  lead  the  sinner 
to  trust  in  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  the 
atoning  sacrifice,  by  which  it  becomes  just  and  safe  to  for- 
give his  sins.  We  escape  a  great  many  philosophical  diffi- 
culties, I  admit,  by  rejecting  this  view,  and  considering  Jesus 
Christ  as  only  a  human  teacher  of  moral  and  religious  truth  ; 
but  with  the  difficulties,  we  lose  all  the  life  and  spirit  of 
piety.  The  human  soul  has  always,  in  every  country  and 
in  every  age,  hungered  and  thirsted  for  a  sacrifice  for  its  sins, 
and  it  always  will.  The  mind  of  man  is  so  constituted,  that 
it  must  instinctively  feel  that  there  is  something  incomplete 
<ind  unfinished  in  transgression,  until  punishment,  or  some- 
thing to  take  the  place  of  punishment,  has  ensued.  You  can 


398  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  way  of  peace.  The  soul  thirsts  for  it. 

not  quiet  a  child  whose  conscience  is  wounded  by  some 
wrong  toward  yourself  that  he  has  done,  by  simply  saying 
that  you  forgive  him.  There  is  a  moral  instinct  that  expects 
something  more.  So  the  soul,  in  its  maturity,  when  con- 
science is  wounded  by  its  sins  against  God,  can  not  be  com- 
pletely soothed  by  offering  to  it  mere  forgiveness.  There  may 
be,  possibly,  repentance,  as  we  have  before  shown,  without  a 
very  distinct  knowledge  of  the  Savior, — and  also  a  very  great 
diminution  of  anxiety, — but  there  can  not  be  perfect  peace. 
Foreboding  fears  will  linger  in  the  heart,  and  anxious  solici- 
tude about  the  future  disturb  its  hopes  of  pardon.  Then, 
besides,  a  vital  union  with  the  Son  of  God,  as  the  Redeemer 
and  Keeper  of  the  soul,  a  connection  with  him  as  the  Great 
Mediator,  the  Justifier,  constitutes  the  great  moral  means  of 
defense  against  future  sin.  It  is  the  refuge  to  which  the  soul 
flies  in  its  hours  of  trial,  feeling  that  such  a  connection  is  just 
what  it  wants,  and  what  it  must  have.  We  make  resolu- 
tions and  break  them.  We  renew  them  in  hours  of  solitude 
and  reflection,  but  when  we  are  again  in  the  world,  they  are 
again  disregarded  and  forgotten, — bad  principles  and  bad 
passions  gradually  and  insensibly  gain  the  mastery  over  us, 
and  after  repeated  efforts  and  struggles,  each  returning  hour 
of  solitude  and  reflection  finds  our  condition  more  hopeless 
than  before.  Discouraged,  disheartened,  and  almost  in  de- 
spair, the  soul  pauses  in  gloomy  doubt,  whether  to  renew 
again  the  hopeless  toil,  or  give  up  all.  Now  it  is  at  such  a 
time  as  this  that  the  soul  understands  and  feels  the  meaning 
of  flying  to  Jesus, — appropriating  his  righteousness, — look- 
ing up  for  pardon,  through  his  atoning  sufferings, — and,  in 
utter  self-abandonment,  casting  all  on  him.  You  can  not 
make  this  phraseology  intelligible  to  a  worldly  man,  while  in 
the  midst  of  his  worldliness,  and  never  feeling  the  bitterness 
and  the  weight  of  the  bondage  of  sin.  But  they  who  have 
felt  these  burdens,  almost  always  find  in  the  atoning  suffer- 


CONCLUSION. 


399 


Difficulties. 


Disposal  of  the  difficulties. 


ings  of  a  divine  Redeemer,  just  such  a  refuge  as  they  most 
eagerly  desire.  It  always  has  been  so,  in  all  ages  of  the 
world.  The  most  devoted  and  consistent  piety  has  always 
been  coupled  with  the  most  distinct  conceptions  of  the  utter 
ruin  and  helplessness  of  man,  and  of  his  sole  reliance  on  the 
influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  for  his  sanctification,  and  on  the 
obedience  and  atoning  sufferings  of  a  divine  Redeemer  for  his 
justification  and  pardon. 

I  do  not  deny  that  philosophical  acumen  may  involve  these 
views  in  very  serious  and  real  difficulties  ;  and  so  it  may  any 
other  subject  whatever  that  has  as  many  relations  as  this 
has,  to  the  unseen,  spiritual  world.  There  will  always  be 
many  difficulties,  where  any  one  is  interested  to  find  them. 
Our  wisest  course  therefore  is,  to  take  home  to  our  souls  the 
view  which  is  so  clearly  fitted  for  them,  and  which  the  ob- 
vious meaning  of  Scripture  plainly  authorizes ;  and  to  leave 
the  difficulties  for  another  day. 

In  respect  to  redemp- 
tion by  Jesus  Christ, 
and  the  philosophical 
objections  which  may 
be  urged  against  it, 
the  soul  will  feel  when 
it  is  really  burdened 
with  its  sins,  as  a  thirs- 
ty man  before  a  foun- 
tain of  water,  with 
Berkeley  by  his  side, 
attempting  to  prove  to 
him  that  water  is  no 
reality.  Though  he 

can  not   reply  to   the  SUFFERING. 

subtile    argument,   he 
will  4rink  <md  quench  his  thirst ;  and  so  will  we. 


400  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

The  church  and  the  denominations.  Promoting  holiness  and  happiness. 

5.  I  have  wished  to  inculcate  liberal  views  in  respect  to 
all  the  non-essentials  of   Christianity.     Just  in    proportion 
as  the  mind  is  turned  away  from  the  consideration  of  the 
moral  ruin  of  man,  and  from  the   direct  application  of  the 
great  moral  and  spiritual  remedy  as  widely  as  possible, — 
and  is  occupied  about  forms  and  organizations,  and  the  de- 
tails of  theological  speculations,  just  in  that  proportion  will 
true  piety  decline,  true,  genuine  love  for  the  souls  of  men 
grow  cool,  and  the  subject  become  a  partisan,  a  disputant, 
a  manager,  suspicious  and  jealous  of  sister  branches  of  the 
church,  and  a  dead  weight  upon  the  Savior's  cause.     We 
want  to  have  our  souls  strongly  interested  in  promoting,  by 
any  proper  means,  the  salvation  of  men  from  their  sins  ;  and 
while  we  are  steady  and  faithful  in  our  attachment  to  the  in- 

•  stitutions  and  forms  with  which  we  have  been  connected,  we 
shall,  if  our  hearts  are  really  set  upon  the  promotion  of  God's 
cause,  rejoice  in  the  success  of  other  laborers,  and  allow  them 
to  love  their  institutions  and  their  modes  of  operation,  as  we 
love  ours. 

6.  These  works  have  endeavored  to  exhibit  piety,  as  ac- 
tive,— going  forth  to  the  work  of  promoting  holiness  and  hap- 
piness of  every  kind  and  in  every  degree.     This  comparative 
diminution  of  interest  in  one's  own  private  and  personal  pur- 
suits, and  desire  to  engage  as  a  co-operator  with  God  in  pro- 
moting universal  good,  is  at  once  the  fruit  and  the  evidence 
of  piety ;  and  the  degree  of  genuine,  heartfelt,  persevering 
interest  with  which  we  engage  in  our  Master's  work,  is  per- 
haps the  best  measure  of  the  degree  in  which  we  possess  his 
spirit.     I  have  endeavored  to  delineate  the  temper  and  the 
feelings  with  which  this  work  should  be  done.     This  spirit  I 
have  represented  as  mild,  gentle,  patient,  unobtrusive.     It 
should  take  this  form  generally  among  those  for  whom  these 
books  are  chiefly  written.     While,  however,  in  our  ordinary 
intercourse  with  mankind,  we  act  in  this  gentle  manner,  we 


CONCLUSION  40 1 


Various  modes  of  doing  good.  The  author's  farewell. 

ought  not  to  feel  that  all  violent  collision  with  sin  is  wrong, 
and  condemn  those  who,  from  the  circumstances  in  which 
Providence  has  placed  them,  are  led  to  engage  in  an  active 
warfare  against  it.  Such  violent  struggles  are  sometimes, 
though  perhaps  seldom,  unavoidable,  and  we  must  not  feel 
irritation  or  anger  against  those  who  use  what  we  consider 
harsh  or  severe  language  in  denouncing  sin,  or  in  meas- 
ures to  oppose  it.  Jesus  Christ  could  rehuke  sharply.  He 
once  drove  sinners  away  from  their  work  of  wickedness,  with 
a  scourge  ;  he  described  a  class  of  guilty  men  as  a  generation 
of  vipers,  and  called  one  of  his  disciples  a  devil.  This  should 
not,  indeed,  lead  us  to  habits  of  severity  and  denunciation, 
but  it  should,  at  least,  mitigate  the  censorious  feelings  which 
we  are  prone  to  cherish  toward  those  who  rebuke  sin  with  a 
bluntness  which  we  ourselves  should  not  think  of  imitating. 
Moral  remedies  are  as  various  as  moral  diseases,  and  he  to 
whom  Providence  has,  by  circumstances,  or  by  constitutional 
temperament,  committed  one  class  of  them,  should  not  cen- 
sure harshly,  those  who  have  been  intrusted  with  another. 
John  ought  not  to  frown  at  the  boldness  of  Peter,  nor  Peter 
look  with  contempt  upon  the  mildness  and  gentleness  of 
John. 

We  should,  on  the  contrary,  all  remember,  that  to  each  of 
us  is  committed  our  own  separate  and  distinctive  work  in  the 
vineyard  of  the  Lord,  and  that  for  the  manner  in  which  we 
discharge  the  duties  assigned  us,  we  are  responsible,  not  to 
one  another,  but  to  our  Master  above. 

My  work  is  done.  It  is  four  years  since  these  illustrations 
of  Christianity  were  commenced ;  and  the  pen  was  taken 
up  with  much  hesitation  and  fear.  So  great  has  been  the 
indulgence,  however,  with  which  these  humble  attempts 
have  been  received,  both  in  England  and  America,  that  I 
find  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  assemblage,  now  that  I  am 


402  THE    WAY    TO    DO    GOOD. 

Conclusion. 

about  to  take  my  leave.  I  tremble  to  think  of  the  respon- 
sibility which  I  have  been  bearing, — a  responsibility  whose 
extent  and  magnitude  I  so  little  foresaw.  May  God  forgive 
all  that  has  been  wrong,  either  in  writer  or  readers,  and 
make  use  of  these  volumes  as  an  humble  part  of  that  mighty 
instrumentality,  which  he  is  now  employing,  to  bring  back 
this  lost  world  again  to  HIM. 


INSTRUCTION  AND  ENTERTAINMENT 
FOR  THE  YOUNG, 


Books  Adapted  to  Family,  School,  Town,  District, 
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BY  JACOB  AND  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT. 


Abbotts'  Illustrated  Histories, 

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Cyrus  the  Great  Alfred  the  Great. 

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Romulus.  Charles  I. 

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Pyrrhus.  Josephine. 

Julius  Caesar.  Mana  Antoinette. 

Cleopatra.  Madame  Roland. 

Nero.  Hernando  Cortez. 

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2  INSTRUCTION  AND   ENTERTAINMENT  FOR  THE  YOUNG. 

The  Little  Learner,  by  Jacob  Abbott, 

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science of  the  little  learner,  and  cultivate  and  enlighten  his  moral  sense.  The 
principles  are  all  presented  in  a  very  practical  form,  and  are  illustrated  with  a 
great  variety  of  examples  made  real  and  vivid  to  the  child  by  means  of  the  engrav- 
ings. 

Abbott's  Kings  and  Queens, 

Kings  and  Queens ;  or,  Life  in  the  Palace.  Consisting  of  Histor- 
ical Sketches  of  Josephine  and  Maria  Louisa,  Louis  Philippe, 
Ferdinand  of  Austria,  Nicholas,  Isabella  IT.,  Leopold,  Victoria, 
and  Louis  Napoleon.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT.  With  numerous 
Illustrations.  12mo,  Muslin,  $1  00;  Muslin,  gilt  edges,  $1  25. 

Abbott's  Summer  in  Scotland, 

A  Summer  in  Scotland.  By  JACOB  ABBOTT.  "With  Engravings. 
12mo,  Muslin,  $1  00. 

A  pleasant  and  agreeable  record  of  observations  made  during  a  summer's  resi- 
dence and  traveling  in  the  land  of  Bruce  and  Wallace. 


INSTRUCTION  AND   ENTERTAINMENT  FOB  TH*   YOUNG. 

Harper's  Story  Books, 

A  Monthly  Series  of  Narratives,  Biographies,  and  Tales  for  the 

Instruction  and  Entertainment  of  the  Young.    By  JACOB  ABBOTT. 

Embellished  with  numerous  and  beautiful  Engravings. 
These  books  are  published  in  monthly  Numbers  of  160  pages, 

small  quarto.      They  are  very  beautifully  illustrated,  and  are 

printed  on  fine  calendered  paper. 

The  Series  may  be  obtained  of  Booksellers,  Periodical  Agents, 

and  Postmasters,  or  from  the  Publishers,  at  Three  Dollars  a  Year, 

or  Twenty -five  Cents  a  Number.     Subscriptions  may  commence 

with  any  Number.     The  Postage  upon  "  Harper's  Story  Books," 

which  must  be  paid  Quarterly,  in  advance,  is  Two  Cents. 
The  several  Numbers  are  also  bound  separately  in  Muslin,  and 

are  to  be  procured  in  this  form  at  any  Booksellers,  at  Forty  Cents 

per  Volume. 

The  Numbers  are  also  bound  in  QUARTERLY  VOLUMES,  Three 

Numbers  in  a  Volume,  and  are  sold  at  $1  00  per  Volume. 
The  two  Periodicals,  "Harper's  New  Monthly  Magazine"  and 

"  Harper's  Story  Books,"  will  be  supplied  to  Subscribers  at  Five 

Dollars  a  Year,  and  will  be  published  on  the  first  day  of  each 

Month. 

The  successive  numbers  of  the  Story  Books  present  a  great  variety  of  subjects 
and  of  styles  of  composition,  including  narratives,  dialogues,  descriptive  essays, 
histories,  and  entertaining  stories  of  a  character  to  interest  and  please  tho  youth- 
ful mind,  and  at  the  same  time  to  impart  information  that  trill  be  useful  in  sub- 
sequent life.  Thus  they  combine  the  presentation  of  important  and  interesting 
facts  with  the  inculcation  of  sound  principles  in  taste,  morals,  and  religion,  and 
thus  form  a  welcome  and  efficient  aid  in  the  work  of  home  education.  Though 
not  intended  to  be  of  exclusively  religious  character,  they  are  so  far  designed  to 
exert  a  moral  and  religious  influence  on  the  minds  of  the  readers  as  to  lead  to 
their  introduction  in  many  instances  to  Sabbath  School  Libraries. 

The  illustrations  of  the  successive  numbers  are  very  numerous,  and  are  exe- 
cuted in  the  highest  style  of  modern  xylography. 

The  following  volumes  are  now  ready: 

VOL.  I.  BRUNO  ;  or,  Lessons  of  Fidelity,  Patience,  and  Self-denial  taught  by 
a  Dog. 

WILLIE  AND  THE  MORTGAGE.  Showing  how  much  may  be  ac- 
complished by  a  boy. 

THE  STRAIT  GATE  ;  or,  The  Rule  of  Exclusion  from  Heaven. 

VOL.  II.  THE  LITTLE  LOUVRE  ;  or,  The  Boys  and  Girls'  Picture  Gallery. 
PRANK  ;  or,  The  Philosophy  of  Tricks  and  Mischief. 
EMMA  ;  or  The  Three  Misfortunes  of  a  Belle. 

VOL.  III.  VIRGINIA  ;  or,  A  Little  Light  on  a  Very  Dark  Saving. 
TIMBOO  AND  JOLIBA  ;  or,  The  Art  of  being  Useful. 
T1MBOO  AND  FANNY  ;  or,  The  Art  of  Self-instruction. 

VOL.  IV.  THE  HARPER  ESTABLISHMENT  ;  or,  How  the  Story  Books  are 

Made. 

FRANKLIN,  the  Apprentice  Boy. 

THE  STUDIO;  or,  Illustrations  of  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Draw- 
ing, for  Young  Artists  st  Home. 

VOL.  V.  THE  STORY  OF  ANCIENT  HISTORY,  from  the  earliest  Periods 
to  the  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

THE  STORY  OF  ENGLISH  HISTORY,  from  the  earliest  Periods  to 
the  American  Revolution. 

THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  HISTORY,  from  the  earliest  Settle- 
ment of  the  Country  to  the  Establishment  of  the  Federal  Constitution 

VOL.  VI.  JOHN  TRUE  ;  or,  The  Christian  Experience  of  an  Honest  Boy 
ELFRED  ;  or,  the  Blind  Boy  and  his  Pictures. 
THE  MUSEUM  ;  or,  Curiosities  Explained. 


INSTRUCTION  AND  ENTERTAINMENT  FOR  THE  YOUNG. 

Abbott's  Franconia  Stories, 

Franconia  Stories.  By  JACOB  ABBOTT.  Beautifully  bound,  en- 
graved Title-pages,  and  numerous  Illustrations.  Complete  in  10 
vols.  16mo,  Muslin,  50  cents  each.  The  Volumes  may  be  ob- 
tained separately. 

Malleville.  Wallace.  Mary  Erskine. 

Mary  Bell.  Beechnut.  Rodolphus. 

Ellen  Linn.  Stuyvesant.  Caroline. 

Agnes. 

This  charming  series  of  connected  stories  is  complete  in  ten  volumes.  Each 
rolume  is  an  entirely  distinct  and  independent  work,  having  no  necessary  con- 
nection of  incidents  with  those  that  precede  or  follow  it,  while  yet  the  characters 
of  the  scenes  in  which  the  stories  are  laid  are  substantially  the  same  in  all. 
They  present  peaceful  pictures  of  happy  domestic  life,  and  are  intended  not  chief- 
ly to  amuse  and  entertain  the  children  who  shall  peruse  them,  but  to  furnish  them 
with  attractive  lessons  of  moral  and  intellectual  instruction,  and  to  train  their 
hearts  to  habits  of  ready  and  cheerful  subordination  to  duty  and  law. 

The  most  attractive  tales  for  children  which  have  been  issued  from  the  press 
for  years. — Cincinnati  Gazette. 

Abbott's  Marco  Paul  Series, 

Marco  Paul's  Voyages  and  Travels  in  the  Pursuit  of  Knowledge. 

By  JACOB  ABBOTT.     Beautifully  Illustrated.     Complete  in  6  vols. 

16mo,  Muslin,  60  cents  each.      The  Volumes  may  be  obtained 

separately. 

In  New  York.  In  Vermont. 

On  the  Erie  Canal.  In  Boston. 

In  the  Forests  of  Maine.  At  the  Springfield  Armory. 

The  design  of  these  volumes  is  not  simply  to  present  a  narrative  of  juvenile  ad- 
ventures, but  also  to  communicate,  in  connection  with  them,  a  knowledge  of  the 
geography,  scenery,  and  customs  of  the  sections  of  country  over  which  the  young 
traveler  is  conducted.  Marco  Paul  makes  his  journeyings  under  the  guidance  of 
a  well-informed  tuta*,  who  takes  care  to  give  him  all  the  information  of  which 
he  stands  in  need.  The  narrative  is  rendered  still  further  attractive  by  the  in- 
troduction of  personal  incidents  which  would  naturally  befall  the  actors  of  the 
story.  No  American  child  can  read  this  series  without  delight  and  instruction. 
But  it  will  not  be  confined  to  the  juvenile  library.  Presenting  a  vivid  comment- 
ary on  American  society,  manners,  scenery,  and  institutions,  it  has  a  powerful 
charm  for  readers  of  all  ages. 

Abbott's  Young  Christian  Series, 

The  Young  Christian  Series.  BY  JACOB  ABBOTT.  Very  greatly 
Improved  and  Enlarged.  With  numerous  Engravings.  Com- 
plete in  4  vols.  12mo,  Muslin,  $1  00  each.  The  Volumes  may  be 
obtained  separately. 

The  Young  Christian.  The  Way  to  do  Good. 

The  Corner  Stone.  Hoaryhead  and  M 'Conner. 

The  present  edition  of  Abbott's  Young  Christian  Series  is  issued  in  a  style  of 
uncommon  neatness,  and  is  illustrated  with  numerous  spirited  and  beautiful  en- 
gravings. It  is  superfluous  to  speak  of  the  rare  merits  of  Abbott's  writings  on  the 
subject  of  practical  religion.  Their  extensive  circulation,  not  only  in  our  own 
country,  but  in  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Germany,  Holland,  India,  and 
at  various  missionary  stations  throughout  the  globe,  evinces  the  excellence  of 
their  plan,  and  the  felicity  with  which  it  has  been  executed.  In  unfolding  the  dif- 
ferent topics  which  he  takes  in  hand,  Mr.  Abbott  reasons  clearly,  concisely,  and 
to  the  point ;  but  the  severity  of  the  argument  is  always  relieved  by  a  singular 
variety  and  beauty  of  illustration.  It  is  this  admirable  combination  of  discussion 
with  incident  that  invests  his  writings  with  an  almost  equal  charm  for  readers 
of  every  diversity  of  age  and  culture. 


,N9TRUCTION  AND  ENTERTAINMENT  FOR  TUB  YOUNG.  5 

Abbott's  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 

The  History  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT- 
With  Maps,  Wood-cuts,  and  Portraits  on  Steel.  2  vols.  8vo, 
Muslin,  $5  ;  Sheep,  $5  75  ;  Half  Calf,  $6  ;  Full  Morocco,  $10. 
This  work,  which  attracted  so  much  attention  while  making  its  monthly  ap- 
pearance in  Harper's  Magazine,  is  now  published,  in  two  royal  octavo  volumes 
of  a  little  more  than  600  pages  each.  The  volumes  are  elegantly  printed,  neatly 
hound,  and  contain  two  hundred  and  fifty-one  exceedingly  interesting  wood-cuts. 
More  than  thirty  maps,  constructed  expressly  Tor  the  purpose,  enable  the  reader 
accurately  to  trace  the  movements  of  the  Emperor  through  all  his  wonderful  ca- 
reer. A  steel  engraving,  as  exquisitely  cut  as  any  thing  of  the  kind  which  has 
ever  been  executed  in  this  country,  embellishes  each  of  the  volumes.  One  repre- 
sents Napoleon  a  young  man,  when  in  command  of  the  army  of  Italy.  The  other 
represents  the  Emperor  when  in  the  maturity  of  his  years.  The  accuracy  of  the 
likenesses  may  be  relied  upon.  When  we  consider  the  intrinsic  interest  of  the 
history,  the  richness  and  beauty  of  the  illustrations,  and  the  typographical  ele- 
gance of  the  work,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  two  more  attractive  volumes 
have  never  been  issued  from  the  American  press. 

Mr.  Abbott  has  devoted  four  years  of  incessant  labor  to  this  work,  investigating 
all  the  authorities  of  value  in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  He  has  been  enabled 
to  avail  himself  of  the  criticisms  which  the  work  has  elicited.  The  authorities 
are  given  in  reference  to  every  statement  which  an  intelligent  man  might  question. 
The  work  has  been  very  carefully  revised,  considerably  enlarged  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  authorities,  and  is  now  presented  to  the  American  public  as  a  truthful  rec- 
ord of  the  career  of  Napoleon. 

Abbott's  Napoleon  at  St,  Helena ; 

Or,  Interesting  Anecdotes  and  Remarkable  Conversations  of  the 
Emperor  during  the  Five  and  a  Half  Years  of  his  Captivity. 
Collected  from  the  Memorials  of  Las  Casas,  O'Meara,  Month olon, 
Antommarchi,  and  others.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT.  With  Illus- 
trations. 8vo,  Muslin,  $2  60 ;  Half  Calf,  $3  00. 
"  The  author  of  this  volume  performs  mainly  but  the  unambitious  task  of  com- 

£ ilation.  He  desires  to  take  the  reader  to  St.  Helena,  and  to  introduce  him  to  the 
umble  apartment  of  the  Emperor.  He  would  give  him  a  seat  in  the  arm-chair, 
by  the  side  of  the  illustrious  sufferer  reclining  upon  the  sofa,  or  to  lead  him  to  ac- 
company the  Emperor  in  his  walk  among  the  blackened  rocks,  and  thus  to  listen 
to  (he  glowing  utterances  of  the  imperial  sage.  The  literature  of  our  language 
affords  no  richer  intellectual  treat  than  the  conversations  of  Napoleon.  Hitherto 
widely  scattered  in  many  volumes,  and  buried  in  the  mist  of  a  multiplicity  of  de- 
tails of  but  transient  interest,  they  have  been  inaccess:ble  to  the  mass  of  readers. 
By  presenting-  them  in  one  volume,  they  are  within  the  reach  of  all  who  can  ap- 
preciate the  eloquence  of  words  and  of  thought." 

Abbott's  Child  at  Home, 

The  Child  at  Home ;  or,  The  Principles  of  Filial  Duty  familiarly 
Illustrated.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT,  Author  of  "The  Mother  at 
Home."  Beautifully  embellished  with  Wood-cuts.  16mo,  Mus- 
lin, 60  cents. 

Abbott's  Mother  at  Home, 

The  Mother  at  Home ;  or,  The  Principles  of  Maternal  Duty  fa- 
miliary  Illustrated.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT.  With  numerous  En- 
gravings. 16mo,  Muslin,  60  cents. 

The  Teacher, 

Moral  Influences  Employed  in  the  Instruction  and  Government 
of  the  Young.  A  New  and  Revised  Edition.  By  JACOB  ABBOTT. 
With  Engravings.  12mo,  Muslin,  $1  00. 


'0  Catalogue. 


A  NEW  DESCRIPTIVE  CATALOGUE  OF  HARPER  &  BROTHERS* 
PUBLICATIONS,  with  an  Index  and  Classified  Table  of  Contents,  is 
now  ready  for  Distribution,  and  may  be  obtained  gratuitously  on 
application  to  the  Publishers  personally,  or  by  letter  inclosing  Six 
CENTS  in  Postage  Stamps. 

The  attention  of  gentlemen,  in  town  or  country,  designing  to  form 
Libraries  or  enrich  their  Literary  Collections,  is  respectfully  invited 
to  this  Catalogue,  which  will  be  found  to  comprise  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  standard  and  most  esteemed  works  in  English  Literature 

— COMPREHENDING     MORE   THAN   TWO   THOUSAND   VOLUMES  —  which 

are  offered,  in  most  instances,  at  less  than  one  half  the  cost  of  sim- 
flar  productions  in  England. 

To  Librarians  and  others  connected  with  Colleges,  Schools,  Ac., 
Who  may  not  have  access  to  a  reliable  guide  in  forming  the  true 
estimate  of  literary  productions,  it  is  believed  this  Catalogue  will 
prove  especially  valuable  as  a  manual  of  reference. 

To  prevent  disappointment,  it  is  suggested  that,  whenever  books 
can  not  be  obtained  through  any  bookseller  or  local  agent,  applica- 
tions with  remittance  should  be  addressed  direct  to  the  Publishers, 
which  will  be  promptly  attended  to. 


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